Through my Eyes
by Saloe
Summary: Canada's history from Kumajirou's point of view but more about Matthew's/Canada's development of person than history. Warning: Apparently a very sad story.
1. At the Beginning

**Through My Eyes**

**At the beginning**

My first memory is of a voice. A soft voice that spoke in a language that I no longer recall but I do remember what the voice had said:

"_When you find the reason for your existence, you will know so from the bottom of your heart"_

My second memory is waking up, or rather opening my eyes as I was not sleeping, to a world of white. Everywhere around me was snow -- snow from the sky, snow on the ground, and snow on the trees. I do not know how I knew that "snow" was _snow_ or "trees" were _trees _but I did. Just like how I knew that I was a bear, a polar bear in fact, and that I survived by hunting and eating seals and drinking water. I just knew. The things that I "knew" were like memories of no origin – a whisper at the back of my head. The information was just **THERE**.

But I did not know the reason for my existence then.

* * *

With the knowledge I held, I lived everyday just doing what I needed to survive to the next day – I had no purpose and I travelled the white, cold land alone.

Once, I had found "others" who were the same as me – polar bears – but then when years passed, I realized we were not the same at all. I never aged or grew larger; I stayed the same while the others grew old and died. They may have looked the same as me, white fur, black obsidian eyes, but I stayed the same and I was hated for it, feared for it.

And so I was cast out.

I did not blame them. I did not blame the disgust I saw in their small eyes whenever any of them saw me or their desire to hurt me when I was seen. It was not their fault nor was it mine so I travelled and survived alone, as small as I was.

I lived like this until I found _him_.

* * *

It was a day like any other day. I was searching for seals under the ice, caught one, and then ate it. I cleaned myself with the snow so its blood would not stain my white fur and continued on to find someplace to rest, somewhere where the _humans_ would not find me and hunt me, even though I was too small for it to be of any use.

So I travelled along the white landscape and I would have missed him if not for the small moan he gave when he _felt_ me pass by. Curious, I looked for the source of the sound and when I found it, my breath was caught in my throat as I took in the serene sight.

There, in the snow, was a child of no more than 3 years, naked. His hair was of the palest yellow and his skin was almost white except for the light colour of pink that covered his cheeks and with the snow that surrounded him and dusted his hair, it almost looked like he was _glowing_.

He was asleep.

Usually, I would have ignored the child as I knew that nothing good will ever happen when associated with humans, but even as I stared at his small face, I _knew _that, just like me, he was different from _his_ kind as well. Never mind that his hair and skin colour were different from the indigenous humans that lived here, never mind that he was alive and not frozen to death with no fur upon his skin, or never mind that he _felt_ me even though he was asleep – I just knew that he was different from the_** bottom of my heart**__._

Oh.

And that was when I realized it. I have found it – my reason of existence. I was _meant _to find him so simply and surely.

I did not want to take the chance that he _could_ die from the cold which meant that I needed to warm him up. So I dug a small den (as fast as possibly could with my small claws) in a snowdrift, just like how mother polar bears do before they give birth, and brought him into the den. It took awhile as the child was slightly larger than my small body but I managed it and when we were both in the den, I covered his naked body with my own so that my warmth would transfer to his body and shield him from the snow's cold.

I slowly closed my eyes and drifted off the sleep and as I did, I felt the child's arm wrap around my body – it was probably an unconscious action as he was still sleeping. As sleep over took me, I wondered if he knew, just as I did, that we were meant to find each other.

That was our beginning together.

* * *

_**Notes: **If you didn't realize it, it's Kumajirou's POV and the child is Canada/Matthew! Timeframe is quite BACK IN THE OLD DAYS. Before any of the Europeans landing on Canada or what!_

_Yeah so first fanfic EVER I have done and my english sucks so uhh yeahh.... English is my main language but I know I still suck at it so whatever! Haven't written a story in a LONG time either! SO. MANY. PLOT HOLES. Alwell!_

_I wanted to do story about Kumajirou because I was working on this pathetic doujinshi of mine and in it, Kumajirou comforts Matthew/Canada a lot and I was like "THIS IS WHY MATTHEW NEEDS KUMAJIROU". I was planning to do this as a doujinshi as well but I realized it'll be a bit long so fanfic it is!_

_I may continue this whenever I have the time~_


	2. Time Just Between the Two of Us

**Through My Eyes**

**Time just between the two of us**

For a long while, it was just the two of us. We spoke no words to each other – I didn't even know that I _could_ speak words then – and we had no names for each other. Our company of each other were simply good enough for us.

So I lived, just like before, but this time, I had _him._ And just like before, we neither grew nor aged any older no matter how much years passed. I was right, he was just like me.

We avoided the other humans just like I avoided the other polar bears because I did not want a repeat of what happened to me happen to him. Occasionally though, I had to sneak into the human camps to get some necessities for him such as clothing for him, so he did not wander the snow naked, or food when raw food was not good enough for him. I had to stop hunting seals, or least eating it in front of him, because I could tell he did not like it when I was covered in red. It probably looked like I was dying. So instead I hunted for fish. It probably did not matter what kind of food I ate as I seemingly cannot die of old age nor of natural causes so I probably would not die from starvation either, but it was nice to feel your stomach full.

He was curious about the "other people" of the land but he did not wander near them. He had always watched me from a distance every time I snuck into the other humans' camp and stole some items – it was quite easy with my small body and how easily I blended in with the snow. Even though he tries to hide it, I know that he is still interested in them. But unlike me, he could _see_ the difference between him and them even without the need of time passing to show the dissimilarity. Their dark hair and ebony skin were a contrast to his light hair and pale skin. Even their eyes were different.

I noticed, when he first opened his eyes to me, that they were the most beautiful eyes I would ever see in my lifetime, no matter how long that may be, and that is still true to this very day. His eyes were a mix of blue and violet and when his eyes were turned to the sun, it can be seen that the colours within them were sparkling with so much vibrancy and life. They were truly beautiful.

The other humans' eyes were dark and dull with the burden of life while for him, he was still beginning to live, even though many years have passed for him and I.

* * *

Years and years passed just like that. Just myself and him. Unchanging and never growing.

We would sometimes find shelter in snowdrifts, like when we first met, or in the hollows of some tree roots, we were small enough to fit in them, or, when we were lucky, a cave or an abandoned cabin of the "other" people. We lived with what we could off the land or from the other people.

I could tell that his favourite tree was the _maple tree_, as the whisper at the back of my head told me, because he would just stop and look at the trees' leaves for hours on end. Admiring how the red of the leaves look against the white clouds of the sky. Weird how he disliked blood on snow or white fur but he was alright with _this _red against white. I never complained whenever this happened. Instead, I would stop and sit beside him and wait until he felt it was right to move again. I just loved small moments like this.

I loved how his eyes would sparkle with excitement whenever he saw maple trees or a lake that wasn't frozen over with ice and sparkled with the bright sun's reflection. I loved hearing his laughter whenever he was in absolute joy and bliss. And I loved how tightly he held me to his body whenever he was scared or when we were sleeping. I just loved him.

To me, he was like a cub. _My _cub. Like how I brought him into a snowdrift den as mothers would before birth, he became _my _cub.

He was mine and I was his. It was as simple as that.

I wanted these days, weeks, months, _years_, to just continue like this. Just me and him and no one else but somehow I knew, that could never be.

I was right when one day we found a man who looked similar to him, pale hair and pale skin, deep in the snow, just like how I found _him_ those many, many years ago and I _knew_, just like how I knew that he and I were the same, that they were not the same as me after all.

* * *

_**Notes:** Wow another one already? Ahaha. I already had this idea in my head for the chapter so it wasn't so hard to spew it out XD. The next one might be slighter harder for me as I HALF got the plot for that chapter down but yeahh.... Thank you for the [4] reviews and favourite/alert stories! I wasn't really expecting any XD. But thank you none the less~_

_Yeah so, can we all tell who Kumajirou and Canada/Matthew found? _

_Ahaha. I was getting to the end of this chapter and I wanted to weep because I know how it's going to be AFTERWARDS (later on in the story) and it's just like T__T to me. Alwell. Till the next chapter._


	3. Meeting of the French Man

**Through my Eyes**

**Meeting of the French man**

When we first found him, I did not want to save him.

The man was not hard to spot as his thin blue and red clothing stood out against the white snow and his face was probably turning blue with the cold. I still did not want to save him. Somewhere inside me was telling me that if we were to save this man, it would change our lives forever.

It wasn't until later that I realized that I was right.

But _he_ did not want to leave him. He was fascinated with the man. He could see that the man's skin colour was not dark like the _other_ people of the land, even with the blue hue cast on his skin by the frost. I could not pull him away as he walked up to the unconscious, and probably dying of cold, man and promptly brushed the snow away from his hair and face. A small gasp of astonishment escaped his mouth.

The man looked exactly like him! The man had yellow hair, though not as pale as _his_ hair, it also had the same waviness to it as his own. He probably wondered, just as I did, if the man had the same coloured eyes as himself. He would not leave the man and I could not make him and when he pleaded to me with his luminous eyes and I could not refuse him.

So we both, with our small bodies, dragged him from where he lay to where we were currently staying – me with my teeth on one of his shoulders and his tiny hands on the other. We were lucky at that time; we have found an abandoned cabin deep in the forest and been staying there for the past few weeks or so, maybe months – we do not really keep track of time. No one would find us there though, with the way we were creating a small path through the snow with the man's body and our small foot/pawprints, I hoped that a hunter will not travel out this far and see it. I gave myself a small reminder to deal with it later if the snow has not covered it up then.

When we finally both got the man into our small cabin, we placed him on the small cot in the center of the room and covered him with furs that I swiped from the _other_ people. He sat beside the man and waited for him to wake up, touching the man's face at every small time interval as if to prove to himself that the man was truly there. That he was not the only _weird_ one in this land of snow.

I left him by the man's side as I went out to deal with the path we made and when I came back, he was still at the same place, unmoving. I sat down beside him and waited alongside him for the man to wake up.

* * *

We were dosing off to sleep when the man finally gave any semblance of waking up. The man gave a small groan and then let out a "_J'ai très froid..." _under his breath.

I stared at him blankly as I realized I just understood what he said even though I have never heard the language before.

_I'm very cold._

I glanced over to _him_ to see if he understood it as well but all I could see was excitement in his eyes as he reached over and lightly patted the man on the cheek.

"_Est-ce vous...? Mon..._" the man mumbled as he slowly opened his eyes and we were both disappointed when we saw this his eyes were not the same as _his_ eyes after all – they were of a bluer sort than his own. I blinked again when comprehension came over me.

_Is that you..? My..._

I wondered whoever he thought we were but didn't, or couldn't ask. We waited until he fully woke up. It took awhile for his eyes to finally focus and focus on us and when it did, he jumped back, or tried to since he was covered in a lot of furs.

"_Qui êtes-vous_?!" he looked around him, "_Où suis-je_?!"

_Who are you?! Where am I?!_

When the man's eyes fell upon me, he let out an unmanly scream and hollered, "_Mon dieu! Il ya un ours ici!_" all the while pointing his finger at me. How rude.

_My God! There is a bear in here!_

_He_, probably sensing the animosity in the man's voice or maybe, like me, can understand the man's words, quickly walked over to me and held me close to his body.

"_Est... est-ce le vôtre?_" the man said, less panicky now that he realized that he was in cabin with a small child and an even smaller polar bear.

_Is... is that yours?_

The man was probably referring to me when he said "that". I made an incredulous noise at the back of my throat and the man kind of shrunk back into the furs. _Yes I am his and he is mine as well!_ I wanted to say out loud but I still did not know that I could speak words and even if I did, what language would I have spoken in?

_He_ titled his head a bit to the side as if in thinking and I again wondered if he understood the words the same as I. Then with the smallest of motion, he gave a small nod. So he did understand as well!

The man also looked a bit surprised that _he_ understood him as well and then said, in that language of his, "_You are not of L'Angleterre's people?_"

Once again, _he_ tilted his side to the side but this time in complete confusion – who was this 'L'Angleterre'? The man could see the confusion in _his_ eyes and quietly murmured to himself, "_and you are not of mine since I did not bring any children here..._"

All of a sudden, as if the man had a sudden epiphany, and he probably did, he shot his head straight up, stared at _his _eyes for a bit as if searching for something and then when he found what he was looking for in _his_ eyes, he let out a happy squeal.

"_Then you must be the child of this land!_" the man let out and would have probably grabbed _him_ in delight if I was not still in _his_ arms and was giving the man a threatening look.

_He_ looked down on me in confusion. 'Child of this land'? What was that supposed to mean?

The man did not allow us to collect our thoughts as he quickly took _his_ small hands in his own, causing _him_ to drop me onto the floor – the man probably finally deemed me not dangerous as a child was able to hold me and not get hurt but _he _was different! I proceeded to scratch the man with my small claws but was interrupted when said man let out another drabble in that language of his.

"_Of course you would not understand! You are much too young and small! But you are __**just like me**__! I will take __**good care of you**__ and you will be __**mine**__, yes?_"

My paw stopped inches away from the man's body as I took in what was being said.

_No no! He is not like you! He is like me! I have been taking _good_ care of him; we don't need you! And he won't be yours! He is mine! Not yours!!_

I wanted to scream it out but my vocals were not meant for human words, not yet. I looked up at _him_ to see the same reaction reflected in his face but all I saw was admiration, adoration and lastly, acceptance.

It broke my heart but when I slowly took in the state of how _he_ was in and I realized, I cannot do much for _him _at all.

Of course this man is _more like him_ than I, he was a human and I was not. Of course the man could take better care of _him_, he was all big and tall and I was not. This man could probably hunt for his own food and cook them for _him_, unlike me who could only steal cooked food from the _other_ people and because of that, _he_ looked underfed. The man was a grown man while I was still a small, unchanging polar bear. There should not be any comparison.

He _will be in better care if he was this man's and not mine, _I thought. I had made my decision then and even if _he_ is not mine, I will always be _his_. It was all right, it will be all right.

_He_ gave a small nod and that was it. The man waited until he considered it to be "less cold", whatever that may be, before taking _him_ up into his arms and walked out the cabin's door.

The only thing I could do was follow them out.

* * *

_**Notes:** Yes! It's the FRENCH MAN (AKA Francis Bonnefoy). It was quite funny for the few people who was unsure of who it was, no insults meant. Ahaha I thought I made it obvious (a bit) but I guess I should've put "pale _wavy yellow hair_" to make it more obvious huh? Oh and for the Nordics never really stayed thus Matthew didn't really have the chance to "see" them and stuff and America was probably busy with England I think XD._

_Ah and I am not french, though I DID take french but that was some odd.. 4-5 years ago? Ahaha so correct me if I did anything wrong. I was clever and just made him speak english in ITALICS - which symbolizes that he is speaking in french! (Thank you Stella Solaris for pointing out a small error! - Fixed it now~)_

_I also had troubles trying to differentiate between Francis' "he/him/his" and Matthew's "he/him/his" because Matthew hasn't gotten a name yet (nor would Kumajirou would remember it anyways - gonna give a reason in the next chapter I think) so I placed Matthew's "he/him/his" in italics and hoped you readers could tell the difference. _

_And at the end, DON'T YOU FEEL SORRY FOR KUMAJIROU?!?! I do! When I showed this fanfic to my friend, she said that I made Kumajirou sound so protective and I guess I did... Alwell~~ He is cute like that~ Oh and didn't Francis sounded like a pedophile too? But that's okay, England sounded much like a pedophile when HE found America so it's all good..._

_Till next chapter~!_


	4. His Time with France

**Through my Eyes**

**His time with France**

We found out later that the man's name is Francis Bonnefoy, the _nation_ of France. When the man received another head tilt from _him_, he gave _him_ a small ruffle of the head (and was a bit disgusted at how _his_ hair was filthy and full of grime) and said, "_You will understand it when you're older_" in that _French_ language of his.

We are already about a few centuries old already, how much older do we need to be to be able to understand it? Though, I guess technically speaking, we have not yet grown in our mind or body; we grew only in years.

Francis had brought us to a small camp of other humans that looked similar to him though we could tell how the other humans deferred to him in a different way from themselves. Looking closely, we could see that his blue eyes held wisdom of many years, just like our empty years, but his eyes held something ours has yet to behold or understand.

When we first entered the camp, which Francis had trouble looking for but found it after some hours of searching wrapped in the furs from our cabin, Francis left us by the central fire where _he_ excitedly sat in front of and just stared at the dancing flame – we have never been up close to a fire before nor did we dare to start or keep one in fear of setting ourselves or the forest in flame. So _he_ sat quietly and I beside him as Francis left somewhere and when he returned, he returned with a bowl of hot _broth_ and placed it in front of us. _He _eagerly reached for the bowl and took a large gulp, ignoring the hot sensation that probably went down his throat. _He_ gave a small happy noise – we have also never eaten _hot_ food either since we could not maintain a fire so all I was able to steal was either warming or cold food from the _other_ people.

I could tell that my decision to allow _him_ to come with the French man was correct.

The French man saw how enthusiastic _he_ was drinking, gave a small chuckle and kindly took the hot broth away from _him_. _He_ gave a small keening sound and reached for the bowl.

"_Calm down, my dear,_" the man said chuckling some more, _"there are more where that came from. You should wait till it cools down or else it will burn your tongue._"

Too late for that but _he_ didn't really care, all he wanted was the sensation of something _hot_. _He_ gave another small noise and instead reached for me when his hot broth was denied from him. I cuddled into his small body, breathing in the scent of snow and earth.

It didn't take long for the cold air to cool down the broth but Francis did not return the broth to _him_. Instead, while holding the cooled bowl, he stared at _him_ intently, which made _him_ squirm a little bit being under such scrutiny, until finally he spoke a sentence quietly.

"_Can you not speak?_"

We, me and _him_, looked at each other briefly, recalling all the years in which we were together that we never spoke a word to each other. I mean, what was the point of talking to a _polar bear_ or having said polar bear speak? We did not need speech to communicate to each other; we were fine with how we were.

Having caught the small glance between the two of us, the French man then whispered another sentence.

"_Have you ever tried?_"

Being able to answer _this_ question, _he_ shook his head. With that, the man's face brightened up a bit and finally gave _him_ his broth, which _he_ took in both hands and started to drink the relatively cool broth above my head. _He_ was a bit disappointed that the broth was no longer hot but he drank it none the less – food was food! When Francis passed the broth over, he clapped his hands in delight.

"_Then all I need to do is teach you how to speak! It shouldn't be too hard since you already understand the words!"_

_Slurp_. A small pause then _he_ looked up from his nearly empty bowl and gave a small nod, as if saying '_what's the harm in learning how to speak?'_

Again, Bonnefoy gave a small clap in delight.

"_Excellent! Then let's start now, can you say '_'_frère Francis'?_"

_He_ put down his now empty bowl and started to attempt saying what was desired of him. Bonnefoy and I looked at _him_ anxiously like we were waiting for a toddler say its first words though technically speaking, these _WOULD _be his first words.

"_Fffffffuh... fuh... furai....." he_ tried, "_frère_... _Frah... Fransssissssss..."_

Though _he_ dragged the 's' sounds in 'Francis', the words were pretty close and said Francis squealed in delight, tightly hugged _him _(and me) and then let out a stream of French sentences.

"_Yes yes! You're so good, my dear! Yes I will be your brother Francis from now on and you'll be my younger brother now yes? You will become New France and you can show me where you got such lovely furs too?_"

Since it was the first time being praised by _anyone_, _he_ lifted his sparkling violet-blue eyes to meet blue eyes and gave a reply happily in French.

"_Oui, mon frère Francis_!"

Francis quite literally swooned and hugged us tighter.

* * *

For the next few years, _he_ quickly learned how to speak the French language and was cheerful every time he was praised by the French man. During this time, the French man gave _him_ a human name since it was hard to know what was _his_ _'nation'_ was at the time with the wars between France and this "L'Angleterre".

The name that was given to _him_ was _Matthieu_.

When _Matthieu_ received his name for the first time, he was so delighted that he ran up to the man and hugged his legs tightly.

"_Thank you my brother! I never had a name before! Thank you thank you! I love it so much! I love you!_" he said in fast French, snuggling his head into the man's leg.

Francis picked _Matthieu_ up with a small laugh and held him close that he was able to nestle his head in the crook of Francis' neck. Francis ruffled _his_ hair (his hair was now all clean, silky smooth and was that same pale yellow colour he had when I first met him) and said, "_Well you long deserved a name! Next, I will teach you how to read and write!_"

_Matthieu_ gave a bright smile in response and that was when Francis noticed that I was at his legs staring up at the two of them.

"_How about you give your... pet... a name too?_" he said unsure of what 'status' I held with _him_, "_He doesn't have a name either I take it?_"

"_Um... no... He doesn't..._" _Matthieu_ looked down at me,"_Um... I guess... Um... Kuma... Kuma... Kumajirou?_"

Whoa. _Kumajirou_? Where did that come from? It was not even a French name but I didn't question it. I guess in his mind, he called me "bear" since that is what _Kuma_ means in some other language.

Maybe that's why he could never remember my exact name other than the _Kuma_ bit. It was the same for me sort of. I could rarely remember _his_ name since I lived for so long without a need for it. In my mind, _he_ didn't have a name but only a feeling deep in my chest. A feeling of deep love for the child I found. It was okay if _he_ doesn't remember my name, he gave it to me and that's all I need.

From that day forward, we were known as _Matthieu_ and Kumajirou. Even if neither us could remember the other's name for long.

* * *

Many more years passed by and Francis had to leave _Matthieu_ alone for long periods of time to fight wars overseas. Sometimes he would come back and teach _him_ a bit more about the French language, reading and writing, religion and sometimes cooking if _he _was very good.

When Francis was gone, _he_ would hold me tightly to his body like I was some form of comfort to him even though before being "founded" by the French man, _he_ would not hold me unless in fear or sorrow – emotions _he_ rarely felt. I worried a bit at this but the worry was relieved every time the French man returned, sometimes with small gifts for _him,_ and _he_ would again put on a genuine smile as Francis cooked him food and spoke to him. Whenever the French man returned, I was left walking alongside him and not held in his arms and that was okay.

Francis probably assumed I was a different polar bear every time he returned since my name kept changing, Kumakichi, Kumatama, Kuma-whatever, whenever _he _tried to call me and as well, Francis didn't know that, like them, I do not age with time like _normal_ polar bears, so I _must've_ been a different polar bear _he _found that's always around the same age. This observation of mine was reinforced every time after _he_ called out my name incorrectly and Francis would then ask, "_Where is Kumajirou?_" or my other wrong names, and would give a perplexed face whenever _he_ would just point to me and say _"Right there._"

_He_ grew a bit during his time with Francis, from a 3-4 year old body to a 5 year old one and his mind grew a bit too. He was beginning to comprehend the meaning of being a _nation_ though he was not a nation yet, he was still only a colony. _He_ did not understand the feelings of pain somewhere within him whenever the _other_ people fought amongst themselves over furs when they did not usually before. It wasn't until way later when he realized that the _other_ people weren't _other _people at all, but rather _his_ people. Though by the time he realized that, it was too late and the _French immigrants_ were now his people too.

Whenever _he_ grew, I would grow as well, as if my body was made to accommodate _his_ body so we would be a perfect fit. Not that I minded or cared or whatever. It was... interesting... at how connected we were and at some times, I would be able to feel what _he _was feeling even though _he _was trying hard to hide it.

Sadness whenever Francis had to leave, disappointment when Francis failed to keep to his promises, anger whenever someone badmouthed Francis, shame whenever _he_ was unable to comply to Francis' wishes, pride whenever Francis praised _him_, and most of all, happiness whenever Francis returned and held _him_ tightly as if he never left.

Or maybe it was because _he _would talk to me whenever he felt the need to talk to _someone_, _anyone_, even though knowing full well that I cannot give a reply – the only thing I could was just give comforting noises and allow him to hug me tighter. Surely that was enough right?

It was, but only until the end of the Seven Years War.

* * *

A few days after the signing of the _Treaty of Paris_ in 1763, a meeting was made between the personified nations, France and England and with them were _Mattieu_ and myself. It was cold, brisk February day and France, _Mattieu_, and I were on one side facing _L'Angleterre_, also known as England, who stood alone. _Matthieu_ and I have not truly seen _L'Angleterre _face to face before, only heard [bad things] about him from Francis, so we were a bit surprised and curious why we would be meeting him that day.

"Hurry up you wine bastard!" _L'Angleterre_ spoke angrily in English, "I don't bloody have all day! I need to get back to Alfred so quickly give me that child!"

"Calm down you _rosbif!" _Francis retorted back in heavily accented English, "At least let me say good bye to _Matthieu!_"

_L'Angleterre_ scoffed a bit and then turned to watch the scenery as Francis bent down to hug _him_. _He_ who was listening to the small exchange to the older nations gave an uneasy face.

"_What's happening mon frère? What do you mean to say "_good bye_" to me? You're going to come back right?"_ _he_ nervously hugged Francis back.

"_No mon cher... I am going to give you to L'Angleterre, you're his now,_" Francis quietly said into _his _ear that I could barely make it out.

_Matthieu_ snapped his head up to try to catch Francis' eyes but he was looking elsewhere, anywhere but at _his_ face. "_What? Why? I don't want to go with L'Angleterre! I want to stay with you!_"

"_It doesn't work that way mon cher..._" Francis said quietly and then lifted _him_ up in his arms and looked at _L'Angleterre_. "Here, take him, I'm done."

"Well about time!" _L'Angleterre_ walked up to the two of them (I was at their feet) and attempted to hold _Matthieu_ but _he_ started to struggle and squirm away from the foreign man's touch and cling onto Francis' blue clothing tighter.

"_Please please!! Don't give me away! I don't want to go with him! Did I do something wrong?_" _He_ started to cry. "_I'll be good! I promise! Tell me what I did wrong and I'll fix it! Please! I don't want to leave you!!_"

_L'Angleterre,_ who got hit in the face with a waving arm, finally backed away and growled at Francis, "Dammit, you bloody prat! Calm that child down!"

Francis gave a small sigh and then finally spoke in a strong voice.

"_Matthieu!_"

_Matthieu_ stopped wailing at that tone but his tears still ran down his face.

"_I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do about it, you have to go to L'Angleterre my dear."_

_Sniff sniff. _"_But I don't want to want to go to him... I want to stay with you... please... please... Don't give me away..." Sniff. "I'll be good... I promise... Don't leave me..."_

"_I'm sorry,_" Francis gave a small kiss on _his_ forehead, "_But you will understand when you're older._" That same sentence he said when he first brought us with him.

To _L'Angleterre, _"Here, take him, it should be okay now."

"Finally..." _L'Angleterre_ muttered under his breath as he again walked up and carefully took _Matthieu_ out of Francis' arms. _He_ held onto the cloth at Francis' shoulder and gave a small whimper as he was lifted away.

"_Come on mon cher, you have to let go,_"_ Francis_ finally looked into _his_ eyes then and tried to wipe the tears off _his _face but the tears kept falling, silently.

And just like that, _Matthieu_ let go and was carried away. _He _started to sob quietly into _L'Angleterre_'s shoulder.

"_Please..._" _He _let out quietly.

I followed _L'Angleterre_ and _Matthieu_ as they left Francis behind. I chanced a look back at Francis, to see if there was any sorrow in his eyes but when I looked, there was none. None at all. He just stared at the departing back of _L'Angleterre_ with neutral eyes and then turned away to return to his ship that would take him back to his people. When I caught up with the English man and _Matthieu_, I looked up at _L'Angleterre_'s face and I saw the same neutrality.

Of course they wouldn't be concerned with what _Matthieu_ wanted or how he felt. How much it was hurting him. _He _was only a piece of land that could be used as a bargaining chip, something that could symbolize how much power a nation has. _Matthieu _wasn't loved for being _Matthieu_, he was cared only for what he represented. Not who he was. But _he _didn't understand it then, all _he _saw was abandonment.

I knew that on that day, something broke within _Matthieu._

* * *

_**Notes:** Woww long chapter huh? Wasn't the ending sad? I weep for Matthew T__T._

_But yeahh next chapter is with England and America! Whenever I will write on it but yeahh till then!_

_So sad T__T._


	5. Entering the New Home

**Through my Eyes**

**Entering the new home**

_L'Angleterre_ brought us to a large house a long distance south from where we usually stayed; somewhere in the _Thirteen Colonies_ of _British America_. _Mattieu'_s land also became a part of _British America_, though it was not like _he _would understand or cared at all. Right now he was still crying softly in the shirt of _L'Anglerre_ and I was still trailing behind them.

When we entered the large house, a small voice called out.

"Iggy? Is that you?" Sound of running footsteps. "It is you! You've come back!"

I looked to the source of the new voice and noticed it came from a small child that looked very much similar to _him_. It looked like they had the same face that I did a double take when I first glanced over but if you looked a bit longer, differences will start to appear. The first difference you would notice would be their hair. The new child had strong coloured blonde hair with a part sticking up at the front while _Matthieu_ had a paler yellow colour and one unruly long curl. Though what I found that set them apart the most were their eyes. The new child had bright blue eyes with no hint of the lovely purple mix that I loved within _Matthieu'_s own eyes and what's more, the new child's eyes were full of cheer and adoration for the Englishman while _his_ were full of tears. Really, there were differences if you looked carefully.

The new child saw _Matthieu_ in 'Iggy's' arms and gave a small pout. "Who is that Iggy?" He then proceeded to hug said 'Iggy's' legs. "Why did you bring a child here? Aren't I enough?"

"Not now Alfred," _L'Angleterre _sighed a bit and attempted to pry Alfred off his legs with only his legs. When that failed he just gave a stern look to the child and said, "I really don't have time for this Alfred. This child is the same as you. I need to get him up to his room; to make him comfortable here. This will be his new home."

"Huh..." Alfred looked at _Matthieu_ a bit but didn't see much as _his_ face was still in _L'Angleterre_'s shoulder. "What's wrong with him?"

"It's nothing, go to the living room and I will be right with you," _L'Angleterre_ said more sharply than what was probably intended.

Alfred gave another pout, turned around with a curt "Fine" and walked down a hallway that probably led to the living room. _L'Angleterre_ let out an exasperated sigh, shifted _Matthieu_ onto his other shoulder. _Matthieu _was still leaking tears though so quietly that I almost didn't notice until the switch and saw the dampness upon his cheeks. _L'Angleterre_ , who seemed to be a bit uncomfortable with the crying child, just patted _him_ on the back and quietly murmured, "It's okay... This is your home now... Who cares about that frog... I will _**take care of you **_now..."

_Matthieu_ let out a loud sob at the last sentence but the Englishman didn't, or pretended he didn't, notice. He went down a different hallway from what Alfred took moments before until he reached a stairway that led up to the second floor.

_Matthieu_ was carried to a room on the second floor. It was a large spacious room that contained a four-poster bed at the center of one of the walls with two end tables on either side, one had a very expensive looking fire lamp and the other was bare, a dresser and armoire and a desk on the opposite wall and lush red curtains that covered windows that had a little sitting area around them along the third wall. If one were to open the curtains, one would be given a full view of the back garden but right now they were closed and gave the room a gloomy feel.

Not like _Matthieu _would've noticed or be concerned about it anyway. He was still crying.

_L'Angleterre_ placed _Matthieu_ on the plush bed (I had to claw my way up the bed since I was still a bit small to reach for the bed without the aid of the sheets or whatever), backed away and asked _him_ in a soft voice, "Is there anything you want... Er... _Matthew?_"

_Matthieu_ probably did not notice the way his name was said differently – they sounded a lot alike at any rate – instead he lifted his tear streaked face and looked at _L'Angleterre's_ face.

"_I... I want to go back to frère Francis..._" _he_ said almost as a whisper in French.

_L'Angleterre_ gave a face similar to what he gave to Alfred earlier; it was kind of a tired face. "I don't know what you have just said but I am going to assume it has something to do that frog." He gave a sigh and sat down beside _Matthieu_ on the bed.

"I'm sorry but you cannot be with _Francis_ anymore," he spat the name out as if it was disease on his tongue, "You and your lands are _**mine **_now, do you get it now? That frog _gave_ you to me because he felt another land was more worth it than yours. 'A land of nothing but snow and cold' he so simply put it."

The Englishman paused in what he was going to say next as he could _finally_ see what effect his words are having in the discarded child. Fresh tears were starting to form in _his _eyes and without realizing it, _he_ took me up into his arms and began to hug me real tight. Smart. Real smart. What a way to make _him _more insecure of himself. I wanted to claw the man's face but I was currently occupied in _Matthieu's_ arms.

_L'Angleterre_ gave another sigh, promptly patted _him_ on the head, ignoring the tears that fell from his eyes, and got up to leave. "No matter. What's done is done. Now you are here and I will take care of you, your land and your people better than that wine bas—uh bloke."

He reached the door and before he stepped over the invisible line that separated the bedroom from the hallway, _L'Angleterre _turned his head back and glanced a bit at the crying child on the bed before saying, "Er... I will get you when it's time for dinner all right?"

The Englishman did not wait for an answer as he walked through the doorway and closed the door with a resounding _bam_ that left myself and _Matthieu _in the dark. He forgot to light the lamp but it wouldn't have made a difference anyway, _he_ was crying into my fur.

I tried to comfort him with the only way I knew how, which was licking the tears off his face and nuzzling into his body. To be honest, I never did this when it was just me and _him_. He rarely cried back then and more rarely stayed sad for long. It was only when we were taken in by that French man that _he_ started to 'develop' negative feelings. I know it's that whole progress of "growing up" and stuff but that doesn't stop hurting _him_ or me less.

Usually my 'comfort' routine would make _him_ wipe his own tears up with a small smile, thank me, and make him more patient while waiting for Francis' return. But who or what is he waiting for now? Even I am not sure anymore and I'm guessing _he_ was the same. He just kept on crying those silent tears into my fur until he couldn't hold in the thought that was hounding him since the end of that short conversation with _L'Angleterre_.

"_Francis didn't want me..._"

And then he cried and cried for a long time after.

* * *

_**Notes**: Yeah uhh so finished this when I was supposed to be like... studying for my final exam that's coming tomorrow.. God I am such a loser XD._

_Anyways yes. Another reason why Francis was 'neutral' when he left was acause he didn't WANT Canada as much as another land. Like France opted for another warmer place that like was more profitable and makes sugar canes or something like that. I forget really because I am sortof going on like.. grade 8 or 9 socials... XD But I do remember something like that!_

_And I think I made England sound a bit of an asshole but eh, I never liked him that much to be honest (even though I am like Canadian, gasp right?) and it's just getting sadder and sadder... Should I like put a warning that say "SAD STORY" or something like that? Because really, if you look it in some way, Canada's/Matthew's history is pretty sad and his present isn't that swell either... I'm not sure what 'genre' to put this under either since I think one was "Hurt/Comfort" but there is like LOTS of hurt and little comfort so yeahh.... The story actually quite sad if you read this PLUS listening to Emilia's Big Big World... which was what I was doing unknowingly XD._

_Alwell, back to MAJOR cramming XD. This is what I do when I procrastinate. That, gaming and drawing. Oh and a bit of reading (that doesn't pertain to school work) here and there. Sheesh. I am a loser. Till next chapter!_

_Oh oh! And thank you all for the reviews/story alert/favourite story/or what have you! I unno but it makes me happy that SOMEONE is reading my story. And I don't know why, but reviews make me smile so drop a few or whatever please? XD. And I'm sorry if I made anyone cry with this story (not saying it does or not) but I also weep for Matthew too T__T!_


	6. His Resolution

**Through my Eyes**

**His resolution**

For the next few days, _Matthieu_ locked himself in his new room and cried. He didn't leave when _L'Angleterre_ came and called him for dinner and he didn't leave for the many times the Englishman tried after. In the end, _L'Angleterre_ gave up and left _him_ alone.

During those first days at the new home, I rarely saw him without the wetness upon his cheeks and I couldn't do anything to stop it. From listening to his soft sobs and the few phrases he lets out in French, I could tell that he blamed himself for France's leaving.

"..._It was my fault... I wasn't good enough... That's why frère Francis left me... That's why he didn't want me... I was useless... I was more of trouble than help... Of course he would've left me..._"

I wanted to tell him that it _wasn't_ his fault at all! I wanted to tell them that it was just another cruel game of adults'! That _they _were the ones at fault! Not him!

But I couldn't. I still haven't the ability to talk in human words and it tore at my heart when the only way I could've comfort him was snuggle into his small, frail body and give small comforting noises from my throat but that wasn't enough for him. Not anymore and I couldn't stop him from engulfing himself in that series of lies he told himself. He repeated them over and over until he believed in them and I couldn't stop it.

Maybe if I had human words back then I could've prevented it, maybe if _L'Angleterre_ came into the room and comforted him with words instead of giving up at the door, he could've ended it. But I couldn't and he didn't.

He didn't even ever enter the room completely since bringing _him_ to the room the first time. That Englishman would ask simple questions like _"Do you feel like having dinner with us today?" _or "_Do you feel like going out today?" _or something of the sort at the door but of course _Matthieu's_ reply would always be a mumbled "_Non"_ and _L'Angleterre _wouldn't pursue the matter. He would give the same answer every time, "Oh alright, but when you feel better, you can find me in the room down the hall or in the sitting room downstairs with Alfred," then he would turn and leave again, casting us in the darkness. He still haven't lighted the lamp nor opened the heavy red curtains and _Matthieu _didn't know how to light fire nor would he move from his spot on the bed to open the drapes. We were always in darkness before he comes and after he leaves and it wasn't helping _Matthieu_ in any way.

I didn't understand _why_ didn't that Englishman just come in and do something, _**ANYTHING**_ to cheer _him _up? Why didn't that man just explain the differences between _humans_ and _nations _to _him? _Did he assume that since _Matthieu_ has been with France for so many years that _he_ would've understood everything? Or was it because _he_ was once under the wing of Francis was the reason why the Englishman doesn't care?

There were so many questions but I had no answers. All I could see was _Matthieu _hurting himself mentally and hear the noises of cheer from outside that oak door that separated the darkness we were in from the light out there.

Yes, noises of cheer from that child, Alfred, with his own brother; sounds of happiness that were lost to _Matthieu_. How cruel can they be? _He_ would sob louder every time he would hear those sounds and tell himself more lies. More and more lies.

Why? Just why?

* * *

At the beginning, _L'Angleterre_ would check up every so often on _Matthieu_. Then later it dwindled to just every so few until finally all checkups stopped completely. _He_ was left alone.

Alone again.

Alone with me. Almost like how it was in the beginning, just myself and him, except it was dark and he learned about love and attachment to others. And about pain and rejection. I wasn't enough for him anymore.

I do not think I will ever be enough for him anymore but I decided back then, at that first time that I saw him, that I would always stay with him. So stay with him I shall.

* * *

All of sudden, about 4 to 5 days since we first came to the large house (my sense of time was a bit off since I did not have the sky to look to – those drapes were that thick), _Matthieu_ stopped crying.

No warning or anything. It just stopped. At first, it startled me out of the doze I was in and I turned to _him_.

His eyes were puffy and red from the many days of crying but they looked _clearer_. Well clearer than the past few days at least. He was mumbling something to himself that I had to move closer to be able to hear it.

"_... If... If I was good... then L'Angleterre won't give me away... If... If I was useful... then L'Angleterre will let me stay this time... If... If... I was very, very good... then... maybe... maybe frère Francis will take me back... If... I was not bother... then... then..."_

I couldn't stand to hear anymore so I quickly nuzzled into his body and he stopped. He looked down at me as if seeing me for the first time, though it was probably the first time in a few days since he has looked at me without tears distorting his vision, and hugged me back.

"_I'm sorry Kumajirou,_" he said low voice, almost like he had forgotten how to speak louder than a whisper, "_I have made you worried didn't I?_" He gave me a smile, a _smile._ I haven't seen him smile in so long! I would've probably been ecstatic about it if... if only that smile reached his eyes. His eyes were still sad and have lost that spark that I used to see in them.

"_I've been a bad boy, haven't I?_" _Matthieu_ said suddenly, taking me up into his arms and, for the first time in days, got off the large bed and headed to the door. "_L'Angleterre probably doesn't like children who cry a lot and, and I haven't even introduced myself! I've been VERY rude, haven't I?"_

_Matthieu_ opened the door and started walking down the hallway, probably looking for that 'room down the hall' that _L'Angleterre _said somewhat long ago. After a few tries, _he_ finally found the room and when he opened the door, he was greeted with a bored voice.

"Alfred, what did I tell you about coming into the study while I am working?"

In the room, _L'Angleterre _was sitting and hunched over a desk with his back towards us so he couldn't see us.

"_Je... Je ne suis pas Alfred..." Matthieu _said uncertainly, worried that the Englishman might be angry at him for _not_ being Alfred.

"Er... what?" _L'Angleterre_ turned around at the _French_ spoken in his house and saw _Matthieu _standing in the doorway, the door still half-opened in one of his hands and myself in the other. "Oh, it's..." a pause "... you..."

"_Oui."_

"So... Are you all right now?"

"_Oui!"_ said _Matthieu_ with fake cheerfulness though I wasn't sure if _L'Angleterre _noticed. "_Je suis très désolé pour rester dans ma chambre toute la journée_. _Je vais donc se comportent maintenant s'il vous plaît ne me donnez pas de suite."_

"Whoa, slow down there. What?" _L'Angleterre_ looked a bit overwhelmed with the stream of French he was bombarded with. "I'm sorry but I didn't get _any_ of that. Can you speak in English?"

_Matthieu _shook his head.

"But you can understand what I am saying?"

_Matthieu _nodded.

_L'Angleterre _leaned back into his chair that was now facing us and the door and crossed his arms. "Well that is weird," he muttered, "but then again, Alfred could both understand and talk to me when _we_ first met so it must be particular to '_our kind'..."_

"Anyway! We will deal with that when we get to it," the Englishman sat up and beckoned _Matthieu_ to come into the room, "How about we start with our names? I'm Arthur Kirkland, the nation of England. You can call me either Arthur or England, whichever suits you best. I'm sorry that I have forgotten it but what is your name?"

_He_ gave a small nod indicating that it was alright that England forgot his name, after all he only heard it once and said it once himself, "_Je m'appelle Matthieu."_

"_Matthieu?_ That sounds a bit too... _Frenchy_ to me. You don't mind if I change it to _Matthew_ do you?" England asked while looking down on _him_.

_Matthew _shook his and tried to finish the rest of the introduction. "_Je suis... Je suis..." _But _what_ was _he? New France? _No. _Acadia?_ No. _He_ didn't know how to finish.

So England finished for him. "Well since you're now under _my_ rule, you've become _the British Province of Canada." _Matthew nodded as if in understanding but really, to him, it was just like a second name – he still didn't understand the significance of what it means to be a colony.

"I guess the first thing I should teach you is how to speak English," Arthur said after Matthew's nod, "and then teach you how to read and wr---"

Before England could finish his sentence, a loud crash echoed throughout the house. England stopped talking, put his hands to his temples, gave a long sigh then said to Matthew, "I will teach you later. Right now I need to deal with Alfred and pray he didn't break anything _too_ valuable." With a small pat to Matthew's head, Arthur got up from his chair and swiftly walked through the door and, from what we could hear, sprinted down the stairs while yelling, "Alfred! You better not have broken anything expensive!!!"

"Well..." was the sheepish reply.

And Matthew was again left alone.

* * *

_**Notes:** Yeah another chapter! And I have another exam tomorrow too! Ahaha!_

_I was planning on making this longer but I decided to put whatever in the **next** chapter or what. The whole point of this chapter was supposed to show WHY and HOW Matthew turned out the way he did. Usually, such things would stem from childhood so I showed it so. And it is around here that Matthew is gaining that invisiblity of his too... Yeahh... This was somewhat how I pictured it when I like saw the manga strips and knowing Canada's history and stuff...So sad._

_The stream of french that Matthew says is generally "I'm very sorry for staying in my room all day. I will behave now so please don't give me away." I didn't want to bother grabbing my old french knowledge so I just used a translator. I unno if it's correct but alwell!_

_And for the comments and reviews. I just smile at the ones who were like "Can't wait for Alfred comforting Matthew" or such things because well... TEEHEE, I wonderrr..... Ahaha anyways. About Matthew knowing the languages, I'm just making that he COULD understand them because like some other entity knew who or what he was going to be so placed said language in his memory banks because really, it's kindof hard to like write a story with which Matthew (which includes Kumajirou because he's in the same boat as Canada) doesn't comprehend the language. To those who ADORE England and hate how stupid he was in the last chapter can explain it off in that he didn't realise that Matthew understood him when he said such things and blah blah blah. Whatever floats your boat._

_As well, Kumajirou still hasn't human speech because I am also going to explain HOW he learns how in like... 3-4 chapters? Or something like that._

_Oh and when England tells Matthew that he is the "British Province of Canada" or what, technically speaking it was the "British Province of Quebec" or whatever at that time but I was like "eff it" and just made it Canada to follow that manga strip (where Canada introduces himself to America as kids)._

_Soo... till next time!_


	7. Time with Arthur and Alfred

****

Through my Eyes

**Time with Arthur and Alfred**

England did not ask much of Matthew. He allowed _him_ and _his_ people to retain their French language and religion. All he asked of Matthew (and his people) was to learn his language, English, and so Matthew learned._ He_ sometimes waited for Arthur to come and teach _him_ himself but most of the time, when England came over and stayed, he would be busy with the other child, Alfred.

Matthew didn't protest whenever he was ignored in favour of the other child, unlike the other child who would whine and complain every time when Arthur DID make some attempt to spend time with _him_. Matthew didn't want to make Arthur choose between _him_ and Alfred nor make Alfred upset either so he would always give that fake smile of his to Arthur and say, "It's alright, you can go play with Alfred, I do not mind. I can do some reading." At this, Arthur would give an uncertain face but would eventually be pulled away by Alfred to play some strange new game that Alfred created that always seemingly only involved 2 players, no more or no less.

Matthew didn't mind. "It's alright," he would mutter to himself so quietly that only I could hear since I was the only one nearby. He would look longingly at the figures of both Arthur and Alfred who were having fun playing that made up game before turning away and headed to the library of the house to read. "It's alright... I'm a good boy... I won't be bad..." he would tell himself.

So Matthew had to teach himself the English language since Arthur was always busy every time he visited the house. It wasn't _too_ hard for Matthew since both French and English used about the same characters and he already had some understanding of the language. England also had taught him a bit earlier so he would also teach himself how to read and write English words. I would take paper and ink from England's study whenever Matthew wanted to try to write. England wouldn't mind a few missing papers or ink.

* * *

Once, Matthew showed Arthur some of this writings and Arthur, who looked surprised that Matthew could already write English words even though he never taught _him_ how, gave Matthew a proud smile, patted him on the head and started to praise him. Matthew beamed at the praised, a genuine smile I haven't seen in a long while, but that quickly faded when Alfred, who was always nearby Arthur as I was always near Matthew, saw the praise, swiftly grabbed the papers out of Arthur's hands and deftly ripped it into small pieces and threw the pieces into the air like confetti.

"Look look! It's snowing!" Alfred happily shouted and danced under the falling paper.

England gave an exasperated sigh. "How could you do that to Matthew's hard work? And look at the mess you're making!"

"Eh... But he was finished with it, weren't you Matthew?" said Alfred to a crestfallen Matthew.

Matthew, who realized he was being talked to, gave another fake smile and replied with a soft, "Y-yes. I was," but gave another sad look at pieces on the floor when Alfred shifted his attention back to Arthur. He really did work really hard on those words to make it look all nice and pretty, I would know since I was there when he was writing them out.

"See? He doesn't mind!" Alfred cheerfully said, oblivious to Matthew's internal feelings.

Matthew never showed any of his finished writings to Arthur after that.

* * *

Alfred was quite an annoying child when we first met him.

The first time we were formally introduced to that child was about a few days after that day in Arthur's study and Matthew was outside with me in his lap when Arthur came to get us. Strange that we never came across the child when we lived in the same house and since Matthew had never saw him before because _he_ was crying that time, _he_ was very excited when Arthur told him that he was going to bring him to meet Alfred.

He was clutching onto me when we walked back into the house.

"Hey America~! Come out for bit, would you?" Arthur shouted once we got into the living room.

"Mm?" came a voice from behind a door, "What is it England?"

Matthew gave a shout of surprise and dropped me onto the floor when he saw Alfred come out from behind the door. I was less surprised since I already saw the child. At that time, Matthew has already been taught a little bit of English from Arthur so he abruptly said as Alfred walked up to him with curiosity, "Y-y-your face, it's just like mine...!"

Alfred was going around Matthew in circles, looking at him in interest, while Matthew continued talking. "H-hi... I'm the British Province of Ca-Canada..." Matthew said with a cute shy voice as he started fidgeting under the scrutiny of the other child.

"Um, so you're my..." Matthew started but Alfred lost interest in him quickly and turned towards Arthur with a, "England~ I'm hungry!"

I wonder if they could see the dejected face Matthew had on behind their backs as they both left into the kitchen and leaving him behind, again.

* * *

After that, Alfred tried at every turn to, quite literally, keep Arthur by his side and away from Matthew's whenever Arthur was over. Sometimes he would make a large fuss that Arthur _had_ to leave Matthew to go tend to Alfred, or he would join in the English teachings and try to disrupt everything and keep Arthur's attention on himself. In the end, Matthew had to learn by himself and Alfred had Arthur all to himself, just like how Alfred wanted it.

Matthew didn't complain. No, he never complained. He didn't want them to hate him so he just kept quiet.

Was it then that he started to fade into the background? Was it then that he started to become just a little less than a second thought?

Many times when Matthew was learning by himself in the library and he stayed in there a bit too long then when he went into the dining room for dinner, he would find that they've already finished eating and that he had to eat from the leftovers. Sometimes, they would forget to make his share completely. "It's okay" he would tell himself. He would then proceed to the kitchen to make his own dinner, he was taught a little from Francis after all, and then eat it alone while hearing small laughter coming from the rooms upstairs.

"It is okay" he would repeat to himself. At times, it would look like he was about to cry, but no tears would come.

I guess, on the bright side, he was spared many times from England's horrible cooking and I was always with him but it wasn't me he wanted. He starved for human attention and I couldn't give him that.

Sometimes, when Arthur was leaving, he would leave without telling Matthew but Matthew could tell because those times were when Alfred sulked. A lot. And he could hear the crying from wherever he was at in the household before Arthur left so he would go downstairs to see him off. Arthur would give an 'oh-I-forgot-you-were-in-the-house' look to Matthew and pat him on the head before turning to the bawling Alfred. Matthew would watch every time as Arthur would kneel down in front of Alfred, give him a hug and gave him soothing words to calm Alfred down.

"I don't want you to go..." Alfred would sniffle.

"I know, but I have to go, Alfred," Arthur would say softly.

"When will you be back...?" Alfred would look up into Arthur eyes pleadingly.

"I don't know, but I will try to come back as soon as possible," Arthur would reply with a kind smile.

This happened every time Arthur had to leave and Matthew watched it every time. It was like watching a sad parody of Matthew's and Francis' separation but theirs were different, theirs had a happy ending every time Arthur came back while Matthew will probably never see Francis again. I could tell Matthew wanted a hug from Arthur as well because whenever Arthur would hug Alfred, Matthew would hug me tighter. I wanted to hug Matthew as well but I couldn't do a full body hug like how Arthur does it, all I could do was cuddle.

When Arthur left, Alfred would sulk. And sulk and sulk. Matthew would try to comfort him but he was pushed away with an "I don't need your help!" so Matthew stopped trying after the few times it happened.

It wasn't all that different from when Arthur was here and when Arthur was not to Matthew, excepting the sulking Alfred of course. I mean, Alfred still didn't want to play him so all Matthew did was just go to the library and read books to get better at English. Not much different at all. Though now that a house keeper came over and cooked the meals, Matthew didn't have to cook his own meals during this period.

It was all the same until one day, something happened that would change Alfred's animosity towards Matthew.

* * *

That day, a thunderstorm was brewing above the house but none of us noticed it until late at night when the housekeeper and maid have long left for their own homes, none of the house workers ever stayed over nor are they hired any longer than a year because Arthur didn't want them to find out _how_ different we were with our strange growing times and never ending youth, and we were all in bed. First it was silence, and then all of a sudden a thunderclap rang through the skies that jolted me and Matthew awake.

Matthew was scared of course, but not so much because I was with him. So he just held me close as the thunder rumbled and flashes illuminated him room in random intervals, casting strange shadows that Matthew dared not to stare at for too long – they were made all the more frightening with the sound of rain pelting the window.

At first, we didn't even realize that Alfred had left his room and was heading for our room since the thunder and rain muffled the sound of his foots and Matthew jumped when his room door was opened.

"Matthew...?" a small voice called out.

Matthew turned to the door as he recognized the voice but that said voice had never ever said _his_ name so he replied in a perplexed voice, "A-Alfred...?" To be honest, Matthew wasn't used to talking since Alfred and Arthur rarely talked to him so his voice was a bit light and soft. "What... are you doing here?"

"Um..." Alfred fidgeted at the door, "Can I sleep with you...?"

Ah so that's it. It was not like we've never had thunderstorms before, it was just that _this_ thunderstorm was when Arthur was away at England. Matthew gave a small nod before realizing that it probably couldn't be seen in the dark and then said, "Sure" and scooted over to give room for Alfred on the bed even though the bed was pretty large enough for like 3 adults side by side.

Alfred started to make his way over the bed but ran the rest over when a thunderclap shook the house and hid himself under the covers. Matthew gave a small smile at the sight and then lifted the covers off of Alfred's face.

"Are you scared of thunderstorms?" he asked nicely.

"N-no!" stuttered Alfred who yelped as another flash illuminated the room and thunder followed after, causing Matthew to smile again, "I just don't like how flashy and noisy they are!"

"It's all right" Matthew said calmly, "I don't like them either but I have Kumajirou with me so I can deal with it a bit better."

"Kumajirou...?"

"Yes, my polar bear, see?" Matthew lifted me up to show Alfred, "He's always with me, for as long as I could remember."

Alfred stared at me some before saying, "Is he alive?"

"Yes of course," I moved a hand up and down and Alfred gave a small gasp of astonishment, "See? He understands human speech too. And he's different from other polar bears too! Like how he doesn't grow bigger or die."

"I see..." Alfred said as I snuggled into Matthew.

Another thunderclap and Alfred yelped again. Matthew gave a small laugh at it.

"I-it's not funny..." Alfred whined from under the covers, once again.

"I know it's not," Matthew smiled – wow, this night I have seen more genuine smiles from Matthew than from the whole time we've been here so far. "If you like, you can hold onto Kumakichi?"

If Alfred noticed that my name was different, he didn't show it, instead he looked into Matthew's eyes and said, "But what about you..?"

Matthew gave a small sign of dismissal to the question, "It's alright if he's between us, right?"

"I guess..."

"Okay then!" Matthew placed me in between the two of them and I felt Alfred's arms go around me. I gave a small [bear] sigh – I didn't want to be touched by anyone but Matthew if that's he want, so be it. Matthew went under the covers and moved closer to me. I was currently facing Matthew and when I heard a small, "thank you" from him, I wanted to crawl over into _his_ arms but Alfred's were holding me back.

For awhile, we were all just lying down in silence, aside from the thunderclaps and our breathing, until Alfred spoke again.

"You... You're not going to take Arthur away from me, are you...?"

Matthew looked over me to Alfred with a confused look, "What..?"

_Funny_, I thought, _aren't YOU the one taking Arthur away from Matthew?_

"Um well..." Alfred shifted nervously behind me and I couldn't see him but I am going to guess he had his head down since I can feel his breath on my fur, "I thought you would take Arthur away from me since Arthur ignored me the first time you came and I only have little time with Arthur when he's over so I didn't want him to only pay attention to you and stuff.. So I..."

Alfred started to mumble by the end of his 'speech' but Matthew heard it all none the less. Well at least that makes more sense to why Alfred was hostile towards Matthew, he was just uncertain about how Arthur was going to deal with having two children in one household. Matthew looked down again and since I was facing him, I could see the sad face that appeared. It made sense but the damage was already done, he was already being forgotten by Arthur.

Alfred noticed the vocal silence and started to speak out again, "I-I'm sorry! I didn't realize that you would be so different from what I thought you were! I didn't think you would be so --"

Before Alfred could finish that sentence, Matthew lifted his head and plastered on that fake smile I was so used to seeing and interrupted, "No, it's okay. I don't mind at all." I wondered what would've Alfred said at the end of that sentence. Nice? Docile? Subservient?

Another silence stretched out between the two of them. With every clap of thunder, Alfred would hug me tighter and Matthew would move closer till finally Alfred spoke out again.

"I miss him... Arthur that is..." As if we wouldn't know who _him_ is.

Matthew looked down and then said something he's been holding in for about the year we have been staying in this house, "I miss frère Francis..."

He didn't dare say it before because he knew that Arthur didn't like anything to do with the French nation and because he feared it will make what he's known all along more concrete – that France will never take him back.

"Francis?" questioned Alfred, "He was the one who had you before Iggy?"

Matthew gave a small nod.

"And then he gave you away to Iggy?" tactlessly asked Alfred and Matthew gave another halting nod. "What a mean brother!"

Matthew glanced up at that, "N-no... He wasn't mean... H-he said I would understand when I was older..."

"Well do you?"

"I-It's only been a year... I'm not sure if that's what he meant by 'being older'..."

"Hm... well then I will be a better brother than Francis!" Alfred exclaimed and then reached over to engulf Matthew in a hug with me in the middle, "I'm older than you, I think, so it's all good!"

Matthew blushed a bit since it's been awhile since any _human _hugged him before answering meekly, "Really..? You will...?"

"Yes sure! As long as you promise not to take Arthur away from me!"

Matthew smiled warmly at that and snuggled into my fur while wrapping his arms around Alfred. "I promise," he whispered.

They both fell asleep like that with the thunder rolling above the house.

* * *

The next day, with no traces of the storm left, I could tell Matthew half expected Alfred to forget everything that happened last night and act the same way to him as he did before. So I could see the shocked look on his face when he was greeted with a happy "Good morning" from Alfred when he woke up.

Alfred laughed a bit at the face Matthew made. "I said I will, didn't I?"

Matthew looked away shyly, still not used to having Alfred talking _to_ him and not _through_ or_ about_ him, "W-well, I guess you did... But I didn't think you would..."

"Yes I did!" Alfred said before grabbing Matthew's hand and pulling him out of the room. "Come on! I smell breakfast and then I can show you the good hiding places in the house when you don't want to be found by Arthur when you do something wrong! Then we can go outside to play and, and..."

Alfred kept talking while pulling Matthew by the hand, but I could also see, for the first time in a long time, on Matthew's face was a genuine smile that was full of happiness and nothing else.

* * *

For the next few days, Alfred included Matthew in _everything_ he did, from playing games outside or inside the house, or causing mischief on the housekeeper and maid. Matthew felt guilty about the latter but he was still happy none the less for being part of _something_.

During this time, they both picked pet names for each other where Matthew became "Mattie" to Alfred and Alfred became "Al" to Matthew. When Matthew was with Alfred was when he lost all his inhibitions about being a "good boy" and became very similar to the child he was before that France – England incident. It also meant that he was spending less time with me, but that didn't matter, as long as Matthew is happy, so I will be too.

When Arthur returned, Matthew expected Alfred to forget all about him and just take the attention of Arthur like always but Alfred surprised him once again.

Alfred would let Matthew join in his created games, now that it could be played with three people _now_, or sometimes, he would just play a game between the two of them and leave Arthur out. Arthur didn't mind, he would have time to _finally_ do work in the house without Alfred interrupting him so. Now that Alfred is acknowledging Matthew's existence and "sharing" him with Arthur, Arthur would remember about Matthew more often than not.

Matthew finally felt a part of a _family_ and not some forced upon in the household. He started to become more open and authentically _happy_, though he was still a bit awkward around Arthur.

It was okay when Arthur forgot about him sometimes. Alfred would remind him or Matthew will just go read a book in the library.

It was okay when Arthur gave Alfred a handcrafted toy soldier set and not him. Matthew would go and play with me or sometimes, Alfred would allow him to look at the toy soldiers but no touching. They were too precious to Alfred.

It was okay when Arthur brought over the latest fashion from England and gave them only to Alfred and not him. Matthew would just go into town with the money he saved up and buy clothing there and make it seem like he received something.

It was okay when all Arthur saw in his eyes was always Alfred and never Matthew. Matthew would turn a blind eye to the obvious favouritism towards Alfred. Again and again, he would tell himself that it was expected. I mean after all, Alfred has been with Arthur longer than Matthew.

Alfred became both the tormentor and saviour of Matthew's without realizing it.

One would expect to such favouritism to like diminish slightly after many years with both children but it never did. It never lessened any even when Matthew grew to a youth that looked around 12-13 years and Alfred, who grew faster when in the beginning they were the same, to a youth of about 15 or 16 years old. Even when Alfred became rebellious and mischievous while Matthew became loyal and well behaved. Arthur had always loved Alfred more.

Even right till when 12 years has passed since Matthew came to live in that household and the _American Revolution_ started.

* * *

**_Notes:_**

Sorry for the crappy writing and probably full of errors, my brain was sortof dead after my exams so uhh yeahh. One the bright side.. It's a long.. long.. chapter.. Holy crap it's long.

Can you TELL that I don't like Arthur? I honest to God do not like Arthur and here are some of the reasons so. I also DETEST US/UK pairings because it always leaves Matthew out! And like HONESTLY, US/Can is WAY better than US/UK, or even UK/Can is better!! Everytime I see a US/UK _anything_ I just want to weep for Canada.

I incorporated a bit of the manga/anime into this in all the parts I was lilke "WHAT ABOUT CANADA DAMMIT?!?!" Even in the recent episode (47) where Alfred (as a child) didn't want Arthur to leave and stuff, I just wailed out "WHERE IS CANADA?!?! WHY DON'T YOU EVER SAY BYE TO HIM!?!?!" I mean they live on the same damn continent! And the stupid toy soldier bit and the clothing and even the eating at the table, you NEVER see Canada! And in the latest episode now (48) where England is sick in bed after building some weapon for WWII and America comes and blah blah. And I was like "Ugh.. more US/UK material... Frick! WHERE IS CANADA?!?! *weeps*" And yes yes, I know England and America are one of main characters and Canada isn't but Canada is important too T__T.

Oh and does this satisfy your guys' desire for brotherly love between Alfred and Matthew? Warning you now, it's going to be relatively more Alfred and Canada for the next two (or so) chapters and they'll be SAD... not like the story isn't sad at all.... Well, Canada IS full of sadness really... Hum poor Matthew...

**Stella Solaris -** Thank you for the offer but there prolly won't be much french left except small snippets Matthew might let out so I probably won't need a beta XD.

Well then, till the next [sad] chapter~! (Ahaha I made my friend not want to read this anymore XD because she said it REALLY made her depressed and she doesn't want to read something she know that is sad) Can I has a review or something telling me how you feel about the story so I can like.. stop while I am ahead if you're going to stop reading it because it's so sad or something?


	8. Making Him Choose

**Through My Eyes**

**Making him choose**

The change in Alfred was gradual. Well, besides the sudden growth that left a great visible height and 'age' difference between him and Matthew.

First, was the loss of the pet name Alfred had for Arthur, _Iggy_, even though Alfred kept _Mattie_ for Matthew. Not that Arthur minded. Rather, I think he appreciated it since Arthur didn't like to be called "Iggy" by a youth of 15-16 years old.

Next, was increase of excursions into the town, even when Arthur was over, which was odd since Alfred would always want to stay by Arthur's side whenever he came to visit. But he didn't. Rather, it would seem that Alfred went out _more _whenever Arthur came by, leaving Matthew alone with the Englishman. At the beginning of these ventures out to town, Alfred brought Matthew along (who brought me along, naturally) for simple wares to buy such as small trinkets or food with the allowances given to them by Arthur. We no longer had a housekeeper then because Arthur deemed ourselves mature enough to cook ourselves food and Alfred scared away our housekeeper with his antics and his sudden "growth spurt". We still had a maid (though we had to change her after Alfred's growth) that came once a week to clean the house. Other than that, we had to cook food for ourselves, when Arthur wasn't here that is.

Alfred, who seemingly developed the bad taste in food such as Arthur's, could not cook well so it fell to Matthew to cook. It wasn't that hard for Matthew, who was spared a few times from Arthur's [horrible] cooking by Arthur's forgetfulness, was taught by France and who "practiced" cooking all those times when Arthur did forget to cook his share, to cook for the three of us. All he needed to do was just cook a bigger portion, and a bit more since Alfred was almost like a bottomless hole when it came to food. Which was why Alfred would bring Matthew along to his town visits, so that he could pick out which ingredients were needed for the upcoming meals. Matthew loved these visits with Alfred because it made him feel important and Alfred would listen to his recommendations on which foods to get.

But that all changed when one day, Alfred spotted someone he recognized in the crowd of people and told Matthew to wait at a corner of a street for him while he "checked it out." Matthew obeyed, of course, and sat down with me in his lap and our treasures, food and some random things, on either side of him while he waited. Matthew observed the people around the street – people walking to a destination, people bargaining for cheaper prices on some foods, and people just standing around and talking. While watching the people around him, Matthew strangely didn't notice when some of them would turn and start to walk towards him. Most of them would be older men with a dirty look in their eyes that gave me an uneasy feeling so whenever anything of them would venture too close to Matthew and I, I would glare at them and give a small growl to indicate that yes, I am an alive polar bear and no, they are not getting any closer to Matthew lest I claw their creepy eyes out. It worked of course, those men quickly turned away when they realized that I wasn't a stuffed bear after all and I looked vicious, and Matthew was none the wiser.

I could see what those men saw, a child of 12 or 13 years old sitting alone on a curb would have been easy pickings, if not for the live polar bear in his arms. Alfred was not smart to have left Matthew alone but Matthew was lucky that he always brought me around with him. What's worse was that Matthew could have been easily mistaken as a girl, even though he was wearing a simple vest over a dress shirt with plain pants, he had pale wavy blonde hair that almost looked silver in the light and fell to his shoulders and his innocent violet-blue eyes that looked around curiously. Matthew was absolutely beautiful if one took the time to take in his features and made even more adorable with the complete innocence in his eyes. Arthur never saw this since he was too busy with Alfred and Alfred never saw it either since he was too busy with something else, but these random strangers could see it and it was my duty to protect Matthew. Well, until Alfred came back.

When Alfred finally returned, after I had to scare away about 5 to 10 men, he smelled faintly of roses. It was smell that smelled strangely familiar but I couldn't place it...

"I'm sorry, Mattie!" Alfred said while helping Matthew up, "I thought I recognized the person but I guess I was mistaken! Ready to go home?"

Matthew gave a nod and began to pick up the baskets with our foods and other stuff in it when he too noticed the smell. "Why do you smell of roses, Al?"

"Oh uh..." Alfred looked around nervously until one of his hands fell to one of his pockets and he lifted out a rose, "Oh it's uh... I saw a lovely rose in the window of a floral shop so I went in and bought one to show you! Here!" Then he shoved the rose into Matthew's face until he took it.

"T-thank you," Matthew stuttered and blushed – it was his first time getting _anything_ from _anyone_. "It's very pretty..."

If a stranger were to look in on this, it would look as if Alfred was romancing a female in men's clothing. Of course, it wasn't that and I could tell that Alfred was hiding something and just used the rose as an excuse. I had no proof but I felt I was right when the next time Alfred went out, and the times after, Alfred didn't allow Matthew come along with him.

Alfred started to go out a lot more afterwards. Before, it would've been like 3 to 4 days between outings, and then it began to decrease to every other day to every day till Alfred was rarely seen in the house. Matthew was left alone in the house when that happened but whenever Alfred returned, he would always give Matthew a red rose. Matthew had received so many red roses that his room began to smell of roses, not that Matthew minded or anything, it was just a lot of red roses. So much, that finally Matthew just asked Alfred to buy rose seeds the next time he went out for grocery shopping so he could plant them in the back and Alfred needn't waste any more money on single roses. Alfred shrugged, left outside, and when he came back, he came back with a last red rose and some rose seeds, in addition to the ingredients for meals. Matthew picked up a hobby of gardening while Alfred kept going out on town runs.

* * *

When Arthur finally came to visit, he couldn't find Alfred anywhere in the house and found Matthew in the backyard surrounded by different coloured roses while I was hiding under the shade of a tree. Arthur just gaped at the assortment of roses until he found his voice.

"What are you doing Matthew?"

Matthew looked up from the rose bush he was tending. Matthew was still in a body of a 12 year old so it looked a bit weird for him to be gardening. "Um well... Alfred's been coming home with roses lately so I told him to buy me rose seeds instead because roses are a bit expensive and so he did and it sort of turned to be..." Matthew looked around him, "this."

Arthur just stared at Matthew for awhile before speaking again, "Ah well, where is Alfred now?"

Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his spot and then he said quietly, "He's... in the town..."

"What? He's in the town? He left you alone in the house?"

"Um... Yes, he does that often but but! Um, I thought I was old enough to stay alone house already and so... Um..."

Arthur gave a small laugh, "I'm not blaming you or anything, Matthew. I was only curious. He's probably found a lass he fancies in the town, which is probably where all the roses are coming from. Though, I still need to tell him not to leave you alone for so long, you are still little."

Matthew smiled at the small form of affection from Arthur. He doesn't show that much towards Matthew when compared Alfred, but even a small bit is enough for him.

"Oh well, let's go inside and wait for Alfred?" Arthur took Matthew by the hand and started to lead him inside, "Would you like me to hire a gardener to take care of your roses?"

Matthew just nodded. He would agree to anything Arthur says as long as Arthur was happy.

* * *

Another thing that changed slowly within Alfred was his temperament towards Arthur. Alfred was still kind to Matthew, sometimes kinder, but towards Arthur, he became almost hostile. When Alfred came home that day, Matthew witnessed the first argument between Alfred and Arthur.

The conversation started out normally with Arthur just asking a simple question of "Where have you been?"

Alfred just snapped back with a "None of your business."

Arthur let that comment slide and asked another question, "Why did you leave Matthew alone in the house? You know that he's still small compared to you."

"Does it matter? Matthew doesn't mind."

"It doesn't matter if he doesn't mind. You're his older brother, you should know better."

"So are you!" Alfred hissed back, raising his voice. "But you don't remember about him half the time! The other time, you are not even here! Some brother you are!"

"Do not take that tone with me!" Arthur started to raise his voice as well, anger already welling in his eyes. "I've been busy! You should know that!"

"Sure! That was your excuse when _I_ was younger too! When are you ever _not_ busy?!"

"I don't know!"

"That's what I thought!"

The conversation digressed after that while Matthew watched it all from a corner, clutching me tightly almost in fear. The argument ended with Alfred shouting some profanity at Arthur before stomping up the stairs and slamming his room door. Arthur collapsed into a nearby chair and held his head in his hands and Matthew ran straight over to him.

"Are you okay, Arthur?" he asked.

"My God... What happened to him?" Arthur muttered under his breath, ignoring Matthew's question. When Matthew placed his hand on Arthur's knees was when Arthur did look at Matthew.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, I guess it's that time where teenagers become rebellious..." Arthur gave a sigh and patted Matthew on the head. "Go upstairs and see if you can cheer him up. It seems he cares a bit more for you than me."

Matthew nodded and did what he was told. He made his way up the stairs with me in tow until we were in front of Alfred's door. Matthew knocked on the door and was replied with a yell from within.

"GO AWAY!"

Matthew flinched at the sound of Alfred's angry voice but he spoke timidly anyways. "Al...?"

There was a pause and then we heard a rustle of Alfred getting off the bed and then opened door for us. "Oh Mattie, I didn't think it was you. I thought it was... someone else."

Of course we knew who that "someone else" was but Matthew didn't want to push it. Matthew was almost afraid to look up into Alfred's eyes in fear of the anger he might find there but when he looked up, all he saw was only tired eyes. "Are you okay?" Matthew asked the same question he asked Arthur awhile ago.

Alfred shrugged. "I'm all right I guess. I'm sorry you had to see that, Mattie." Weird, they even gave the same reply, they _are_ brothers. "Do you want to come in?"

Matthew who hadn't been in Alfred's room in a long time, eagerly nodded, which elicited a laugh from Alfred, and ran in under Alfred's arm.

Alfred laughed again and closed the door behind him. The room wasn't that all that different from Matthew's room, if not a little bit bigger. Matthew room was accented with red and was full of red roses from Alfred's town visits while Alfred's room was accented with both the colours of red and blue, like he couldn't decide which colour he liked more, and was full of... quite literally, rubbish. Some we could recognize were the trinkets that were bought from the town, mostly broken into many pieces or combined into something else. Others were just... weird. Like there was a _something_ in the corner of the room that was made of bowls, spoons and some wax. It made no sense whatsoever.

Matthew was staring at the bowl/spoon/wax figure and Alfred noticed. "I was trying to make something but it wouldn't work properly so I gave up," Alfred said as if it's totally normal to throw utensils and bowls together with wax.

We just stared at the figure a bit longer, what he was planning to make or make it do we couldn't fathom, until Alfred got onto his bed and said, "Come, it's a bit early but I guess we can call it a night and sleep!"

Matthew was broken out of his reverie and happily climbed onto Alfred's bed to go under the covers. Alfred quickly grabbed Matthew and pulled him into his arms. "There, comfortable now?" Alfred asked and was given a happy "mhmm" in reply. I crawled in beside Matthew.

For awhile, there was silence, besides our calm breathing, until Matthew spoke out. "Why did you yell at Arthur, Al?"

Alfred gave a long sigh and even though I was at Matthew's back and Alfred was on the other side, I could tell that Alfred was looking into Matthew's eyes. "Because England isn't being fair to my people."

"Arthur?" Matthew asked and I was not sure if he noticed Alfred's change of name reference towards Arthur. "But he's always fair."

I wanted to scoff. As fair as one can be when partial to one child over the other.

Alfred shook his head and I felt it as the bed moved, "No, _to my people_. You wouldn't understand. You haven't grown yet."

"Yes I have!" Matthew, with his back to me, probably pouted, he would only pout to Alfred. I would've liked to see him pout; his pouts are most endearing to watch.

I could feel Alfred relax and then chuckle – no one could stay angry for long if Matthew was pouting that cute pout. "Yes, yes you have, but not in the way I meant! It does not matter, we should sleep before England comes and force you to sleep in your own bed!"

"Eh... But I want to sleep with you..." Matthew replied drowsily, already falling asleep.

"Then sleep now."

Within minutes, Matthew's breath evened out and he fell asleep. Alfred was stroking Matthew's soft hair and said something so quiet that I barely heard it from my side of Matthew.

"If... If I were to leave... would you come with me...?"

Of course, Alfred wasn't expecting an answer from a sleeping child.

* * *

The arguments between Arthur and Alfred didn't stop, rather they increased in number. So much that Matthew began to hide away in his room whenever one would start because both of them would expect him to pick one side over the other. But Matthew couldn't pick anymore than he could tell them to stop.

Matthew could still hear some of the arguments when he hid in his room.

"Stop taxing us so much!"

"I am _not _taxing you that much at all!"

"Yes you are! _We_ are getting taxed and we are not even represented in _your_ parliament! Do you know how unfair that is?!"

"You are represented in it!"

"NO WE'RE NOT!!!"

The arguments would always degrade into shouting matches where neither side would listen to the other. Matthew would hold onto me and hope that they would stop soon. Hope that it would return to how it was _before_. But that was wishful thinking, it was something that was too far gone and will never come again. Every and any hope of the past returning disappeared when Arthur had to take Matthew away from the house and away from Alfred.

* * *

It was March 5, 1770 that day. The day of the Boston Massacre, not that Matthew or myself would know until later. We were at the house, alone. Alfred was out on one of his town runs, like usual, and Arthur was away, like usual. No screaming, no yelling – just quiet. It was becoming something so rare these days that myself and Matthew have missed it somewhat.

It was late evening and Matthew was out on the porch just watching the stars come out slowly and waiting for Alfred to come back when he noticed a figure running towards us. Matthew was about to turn and go back into the house until he realized that it was _Arthur_ coming towards us. So he waited until Arthur reached the porch to greet him.

"Welcome back Ar—"

"Where is Alfred?" Arthur panted as he walked up the steps to where Matthew and I sat.

Matthew gave a confused look before answering. "He's in town, as he always is these days. He comes pretty late too so he won't be home till way later. Why?"

Arthur was silent for a bit, trying to catch his breath as it were, before grabbing Matthew by the arm, hard as a small cry of pain escaped from Matthew and dragging him down the stairs and towards the direction Arthur ran from. "Good, we got to leave, now before he comes back."

"Where are we going?" Matthew was trying to hold back his cries of pain from the tight grip Arthur had on his arm. "What about Alfred?"

"We're going north. Quebec, Nova Scotia. Anywhere but here." A carriage came into sight in front of us and Arthur quickened his pace, forcing Matthew to stumble along. "It's no longer safe here. We got to leave."

"B-but what about Alfred?" Matthew was pushed into the carriage, myself and Arthur followed right after.

Arthur knocked the top of the carriage when he was seated and the door closed. The carriage started to move and we could hear the horses' shoes on the ground. "It's _because_ of Alfred that we have to leave.

"We're... We're not leaving him behind are we...?" Matthew asked sombrely, already sadness beginning to creep into his eyes and voice.

"No!" Arthur yelled back without meaning to, causing Matthew to jump. "No" Arthur said more softly, "It's just... I need to talk some sense into him. It's not becoming safe down here anymore. And you should go back to your lands too. It's time."

"B-but Alfred..."

Arthur reached over, took Matthew onto his lap and started to stroke his hair, "I know, Matthew. It'll be awhile but... I'll make him see right again."

Matthew just cuddled into Arthur's chest as Arthur continued to stroke his hair while Arthur was looking out the window of the carriage. Ironically, that was one of the few times that Arthur had done anything familial towards Matthew and it was when the family was falling apart.

They both stayed that way for the whole long, long ride up north.

* * *

When we've finally reached Quebec, Arthur dropped us off at a quaint house with some money and proceeded to head back south to "deal with Alfred."

Arthur didn't hire a housekeeper or a maid for this house but Matthew was pretty much self-sufficient, even _if_ he was still in a body of a 12-13 year old still, so he didn't mind it much. Plus, this new house was a bit smaller than the previous house so there was less space to clean. Though this time, Matthew had to go out shopping for ingredients by himself and of course he always brought me along with him (so I could scare off anybody who went _too_ close to him). The storeowners were sympathetic towards Matthew whenever he went to buy foods and he would always get a discount from them. Matthew would also learn of the latest gossip or news coming from the south from them as well. About the Boston Massacre that forced him to move away from Alfred, or the burning of a British warship 2 years later, or the dumping of tea into Boston Harbour a year after that, or the beginning of the American Revolution War 2 years after that.

Arthur rarely came by to the new house to visit Matthew and Matthew didn't blame him. Arthur was of course busy with Alfred and the impending wars. Matthew just glanced out longingly out the window as the seasons changed and the years passed. He wanted to help one of them, but he couldn't chose, couldn't pick a side. He loved them both so he waited and stayed neutral in their wars.

Arthur understood and did not force him to join the fight against Alfred. Arthur knew how hard it would've been on Matthew to choose, but not Alfred. No, not Alfred, who was still too green in the ways of the world to understand Matthew and his choices.

* * *

Alfred came one day in 1775. It was in November, some days after 13th, after the Americans had besieged and taken both Fort St. John's and Montreal, when Matthew heard a knock on his door. Matthew was in the sitting room by the fireplace reading a book and I at his feet, dozing as I was wont to do during these war-ridden days. Both of us started up at the sound of the knock.

"I wonder who that is, Kumayuse?" Matthew asked me, even though he was not expecting an answer, placed down his book on the table beside him and began to head for the front door. I followed him as I was curious to know who it was as well. It couldn't be Arthur since he was down south fighting the American Revolution Wars, and there were not a lot people who knew Matthew personally in the neighbourhood for any of them to come to visit him.

Matthew opened the front door warily and was surprised at who was there at the door. It was Alfred, in soldier's clothing and dirty from the trip here with snow already upon his head.

"A-Al..?" Matthew blinked many times as if to make sure it was truly _Alfred_ he was seeing and not some illusion he made up. We were both curious to how Alfred managed to find out where Matthew was staying but that was not a question for this time.

"Yeah," Alfred gave Matthew a crooked smile, one Matthew hadn't seen in _years_, 5 years to be exact. "Gonna let me in or are you going to let me freeze out here on your doorstep?"

"O-oh! I'm so sorry!" the door was opened a bit wider to allow Alfred to walk in and when he was in, Matthew closed the door behind him. "Do you want something to drink? Tea...?"

"Ugh, God no, not tea," groaned Alfred, "Do you have coffee instead?"

"Um... maybe... but it'll take a long time for me to make so..." Matthew began to head towards the kitchen.

"Then no, that's fine, I won't be here for long" Alfred stated simply then moved into the room that Matthew was in moments before, tracking mud everywhere.

"You're not..?" said Matthew quietly as he followed Alfred into the room, ignoring the mud. "Why not...?" Matthew took out his hand and clutched the back of Alfred's outfit.

Alfred turned around and kneeled down in front of Matthew so that they were relatively eye to eye. Even though 5 years have passed, neither of them has changed in appearance or height. Alfred was still a youth of 15-16 years and Matthew 12-13. But in Alfred eyes, there was something there that wasn't there before, something that was already in Francis' and Arthur's when we first met them, something that Matthew's still has not gotten. It was then that I realized what that was. It was war and strife. Seeing death, seeing sorrow, seeing something that would probably be similar to the end of the world, at the time. And fighting for something that they believed in.

"A-Al..?" inquired Matthew as Alfred lifted a hand to cup Matthew's cheek.

"Come with me Mattie" Alfred gave a sweet smile to accent his words.

"W-what?"

"Come with me, join with me and break away from England, Mattie. Be your own Nation and not a colony. Come with me."

Matthew started to back away at Alfred's words. "N-no... I can't. I can't Alfred, I can't." Hearing the anguish in his words, I moved closer to Matthew.

Alfred darkened at Matthew's reply and stood up to his full height. Though he was only 16, he was still growing and he was at least a head or two taller than Matthew. He looked terribly daunting to the two of us as his shadow fell over us. "What do you mean you can't? You aren't actually saying that you don't want to come with me? That you want to stay here, with Arthur?"

"N-no... I mean y-yes... I mean no..." stuttered Matthew, "I-I just can't, I can't Alfred!"

"You can't what? Can't come with me? Sure you can, just take my hand and I'll bring you to America, it's as simple as that. All you have to do is leave Arthur and fight with me. It's not hard at all Matthew."

"I can't Alfred, I can't!!" Matthew began to cover his ears as if to block out the words of Alfred' and his sweet musings. He backed into a wall and began to slide down until he sat with his knees close to his chest and his hands still covering his ears. I quickly went to his side and tried to comfort him. "I can't..."

Alfred narrowed his eyes as he took a step or two towards Matthew. "You aren't seriously considering Arthur over me, are you? Arthur who cannot remember you half of the time? Arthur who obviously favoured me over you no matter what I did?"

Oh so he knew. He knew about the favouritism. Matthew just pressed his hands closer to his ears. "P-please Alfred, please..."

"Do you know who is helping me with my Revolution? Francis."

At that, Matthew lowered his hands and looked up at Alfred who towered over him. "Fran... cis...?"

Alfred gave us a victorious sneer, one we have never seen before, well not directed towards us at the very least. "Yes, Francis, you know, France? He's been helping me from the shadows for a long time. He has been wondering though, how did you like his roses?"

And then it clicked, in both mine and Matthew's head. That familiar scent of roses that was on Alfred so long ago, it was Francis' scent. He met Francis back at that time. Red roses were always Francis' favourite. All those times, the roses we thought were from Alfred were from Francis! Alfred could see that we came to correct conclusion.

"Yes that's right, Francis. You know, if you come with me, I can bring you back to your beloved Francis. He's willing to take you back, you know?"

I could see the thoughts running through Matthew's mind. He hasn't seen Francis for 12 years, since that day after the signing of the _Treaty of Paris_ in 1763. Very slowly, Matthew lifted his hand from his side and reached for the outstretched hand of Alfred's. Alfred eyes had that gleam that was reminiscent of those perverted men on the streets on the same day Alfred met Francis and his smirk grew wider as Matthew's small hand was nearing his but at the last second, Matthew pulled his hand back, curled in on himself and, as if it was possible, tried to push himself into the wall to get farther away from Alfred.

"_Je suis très désolé!_ _Je suis très désolé mais je ne peux pas! Je ne peux pas!!_" Matthew shouted out in French. Matthew only spoke in French whenever he was terribly distressed and Alfred knew that too but, from the looks of Alfred, he didn't care. Alfred looked on at Matthew with a disgusted face and retracted his hand.

"So that's it, huh? You're going to choose Arthur over me? Over Francis?" Alfred spoke with venom in every word.

"_Non_...! No Alfred!" whimpered Matthew. "I c-can't choose! I can't choose, Alfred! P-please! Please Alfred!!" Matthew was shaking, trembling with every word he spoke and for twelve years since that day in that house, Matthew cried. Matthew cried tears he hasn't cried for twelve years.

"_S'il vous plaît... s'il vous plaît... Je ne_... I... I can't Alfred... I can't choose... Please don't make me choose... _Please..._"

Alfred looked down on the trembling Matthew with no more emotion than one would have for a rock. "If you can't choose, then fine. I will choose for you. From now on, you and I are _enemies_. If I need to take Canada by force then so be it."

As Alfred turned around to walk out the door, Matthew jumped up and grabbed on Alfred's pant legs. "_S'il vous plait! S'il vous plait!! Ne me quitte pas!!_ Please, Alfred! I'm sorry! Please don't leave me!" _Like Francis_, I knew that's what he wanted to say.

Alfred promptly removed Matthew from his legs and threw him on the ground. "You've made your choice when you refused to come to my side and so I have made mine. Goodbye, Canada."

With that, Alfred quickly walked through the house and through the front door and closed it with a heavy slam that shook the house. Matthew was left lying in the middle of the room, weeping large tears that ran like rivers down his face.

"_S'il vous plaît..."_

And again, I knew another piece of Matthew broke.

* * *

We later learned that, after a failed attempt to take Quebec in December and another failed attempt in June of 1776, Alfred went back to the house in the Americas and burned Matthew's rose bushes down.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Je suis très désolé!_ _Je suis très désolé mais je ne peux pas! Je ne peux pas!! -_ I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry but I can't! I can't!!

_S'il vous plaît... s'il vous plaît... Je ne_... - Please... Please... I ca...

_Ne me quitte pas!! -_ Don't leave me!!

**_Notes:_**

Ughh so long. Why is it so long? I could've easily separated this into two parts but I said that it would be UBER sad for this chapter and so I had to keep the 2nd part in (which was where all the sad bits were). I wasn't expecting the first part to be so long XD. The first part was the "happy" bit of the chapter and when you get to the end it's like SAD SAD SAD. T^T.

I give you a bit of cute Alfred/Matthew, if you look at it at some angle, and then I take it away! AIN'T I NICE?!?!? Next chapter will mainly be with England and Matthew. Till next time and I love your reviews XD. Thankies for them~ I decided to continue working on this even though NONE of my friends read it anymore. All for _you_ guys now! Merry Belated Christmas!


	9. Extra: The Empty House

Well please forgive me for the cruddy english of the last chapter or what. I must've accidently incorporated my speech into it or something (Yes I sometimes talk like that, I'm weird like that) .... And I am too lazeh to fix it or rewrite it. (Rather I do not think I can SEE the horrible english in it to fix it so no matter!)

So for repentance, I give you an **EXTRA of Chapter 8**. Sorry if it's full of cruddy english too XD. It's about how Alfred reacted when he came home after Matthew was taken away and then some.

**

* * *

**

**Through my Eyes – Extra**

**Alfred – The empty house**

Alfred seethed with anger as he came home. Okay fine, it was his people's fault for clubbing that soldier down but it doesn't mean that they should've retaliated by shooting his people, killing 3 at the scene and leaving many others injured! Alfred stomped up the front porch steps and slammed the door open, not even noticing that it wasn't locked nor fully closed.

_Stupid, good for nothing England!_ Alfred thought to himself, as he practically tore off his jacket in rage and threw it over the nearest chair before plopping himself down on a sofa in the living room. _Just another way for him to exert his "authority" over me and my people! AGH!_

In his anger, it took awhile for Alfred to realize that something was wrong, missing in the house. The house was too dark and too quiet; none of the lights have been lit nor were there any other sounds besides his fury-induced breathing. Where were the oh-so-routine footsteps that indicated that Matthew was coming to welcome him home? Where was that child who was always happy to see him when he returned?

Alfred shot up from his position on the sofa. _Oh my God, where _was_ Matthew?_

"Mattie...?" he called out uncertainly. "Mattie?" Alfred called a bit louder and started to panic when no answer came. "MATTIE?!?!"

"Mattie! Where are you?!?!" Alfred started to run in near fright through the house in search of Matthew. "Answer me Mattie!!!"

He wasn't in the library, he wasn't in the sitting room, he wasn't his room or Alfred's room, he wasn't in the kitchen, and he wasn't in the backyard. He wasn't _anywhere_.

"Oh my God, oh my God..." Alfred didn't realize he was mumbling under his breath as every room he went by came up empty. "Mattie... Mattie..."

Alfred feared that someone came and kidnapped his cute and adorable little brother and he was about to head out the front door to search the nearby town but he stopped in front of the door with his hand on the knob.

_Was the door locked when I came home? _Alfred thought and tried to remember but all he could remember was the rage he felt for the 3 dead people when he heard about the shooting in Boston. He turned around and took in the house's condition. There were no signs of struggle in the house; it was just as clean as he left it early that day. Alfred was fairly certain Matthew would put up some form of fight if some random stranger came and tried to take him. If not, then that bear of his would. Alfred didn't want to admit but sometimes that bear was a better protector of Matthew than himself.

_What was that bear's name again? Kuma... Kuma-something_, Alfred thought irrelevantly, _Agh! Who cares what his stupid name is! Where the hell is Mattie?!?!_ Alfred thought back to when he searched the house and realized that he didn't see the bear around anywhere too. If both the bear and Matthew didn't resist than that means that they knew the person and the only person that they would trust other than himself was... England.

_England._ A new rush of anger overcame Alfred. _Damn you, damn you, DAMN YOU!_

"Why, why did you take Mattie?!" Alfred shouted to the walls. "WHY WHY?!?! He has nothing to do with this!!! DAMN YOU!" Alfred picked up the nearest thing to him, which was an expensive vase, and threw it across the room to smash onto the wall opposite from him. The vase broke into a million pieces but Alfred did not feel his anger lessen any small bit. He started to grab things around the room, threw and watched them shatter.

"Why?! WHY?!?!" Alfred yelled as each item he held and hurled broke in front of him.

"DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU! _DAMN! YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_"

What was left of the room looked like a scene from hell.

* * *

For the next few days, Alfred didn't move from his spot in front of the front door and was just staring at it as if miraculously Matthew would come through the door with that bear of his in his hands and tell Alfred that it was all a joke. But no, that didn't happen so Alfred sat and waited.

He was staring so intently at the door that he startled the maid that came in weekly to clean the house when she entered through the door. Alfred ignored the maid as she went about her duties to clean the mess Alfred made and the maid didn't question or so much as looked in Alfred's direction as she cleaned. She looked almost happy to leave the house when she finished but Alfred paid no mind to her.

At the back of Alfred's mind, Alfred _hoped _it was Arthur that took Matthew away. If it wasn't Arthur, then that means that Matthew was held captive elsewhere and having God-knows-what done to him while Alfred was at home, waiting for a guy who may or may not have him. Yes, it was better if Arthur took him, though not by much.

Alfred waited until few days later he heard horses approaching the house and _knew_ that Arthur was coming. As the front door opened and Alfred could see the blond head of Arthur's peek through, he jumped up and grabbed Arthur by the arm so fast that the door slammed open and Arthur let out an undignified noise he would have not usually let out in any normal situation.

"Where is he?" Alfred said while tightening his grip on Arthur's arm, causing a small cry of pain to escape from Arthur's mouth.

"That hurts, Alfred!" Arthur cried out and when Alfred didn't let go of his arm, he continued, "Who are you bloody talking about?"

"YOU KNOW WHO!!" Alfred screamed into Arthur's face – they were almost of the same height. "Where did you take Mattie?! MATTHEW?!!" Alfred shook Arthur's arm for emphasis. "TELL ME!!"

Arthur ripped his arm out of Alfred's grip and started to nurse his already bruising arm. "I took him away to Quebec."

Alfred made a move to grab Arthur's arm again but Arthur deftly dodged the attempt. "WHY?! Why did you take him away?!"

"It wasn't safe for him here anymore, that's why!"

"Not SAFE?!?! What do you mean it's _not safe_?! There is no place safer than here! WITH ME!"

"No! The people here are becoming more blood thirsty! More violent! It's not safe for Matthew!" Arthur closed the front door so the argument would not echo through the neighbourhood.

"Oh so NOW you care for Matthew?! Give him back to me! If you stopped imposing such harsh rules on the people, then they wouldn't be so unsatisfied! GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!" Alfred started to advance on Arthur.

Arthur stood his ground. "NO! I have always cared for Matthew! The rules are not harsh! Look at Matthew's people! They're not unsatisfied!"

"THAT'S BECAUSE THEY DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER!!" roared Alfred and caused Arthur to back up a step or two. "GIVE ME MATTHEW BACK!"

"No," Arthur said with a deathly calm, "Matthew will not be returning. Not until you and your people learn to better behave themselves."

With that, Arthur turned around, opened and walked out the door, slamming it shut behind him and leaving Alfred staring at the door the same way he was staring at them for the past few days. Alfred could hear the horses move away and he turned to the nearest wall and punched it. With his strength, it left a sizable hole.

"Damn you..."

* * *

Rather than discouraging his people, he egged them on. Yes, burn down the Gaspée. Yes, dump all the tea into Boston Harbour. Yes, start fighting against the British troops. The American Revolution had started.

Every time the Americans had done something undesirable, Arthur would come to the house to scream at Alfred and Alfred would always ask the same question, "where is Matthew?" Arthur would always keep quiet and leave before divulging any information on Matthew's whereabouts.

Many times Alfred wanted to just leave, go up to Quebec and take Matthew back but he couldn't leave his people when they are in need and as well, he wouldn't know _where_ in Quebec Matthew was. Alfred missed Matthew terribly. Missed his smiles, missed his laughter, missed his cooking, and even missed his bear. Alfred fired the gardener and didn't want anyone near Matthew's rose bushes; it was all he had left of Matthew. So for the 5 years from when Matthew left until that time in Quebec, Alfred took great care of Matthew's rose bushes as if he was compensating for something he lost.

Of course Arthur stopped coming once the Revolution started full blast and when his people started with the idea of having the Canadians join their cause, Alfred agreed whole heartedly. _Yes, Mattie will join us. Of course he would join us. Arthur treats him no better than me, if not worse._ Alfred thought when he signed up for the troops heading up to Quebec.

Alfred was excited that he was going to see Matthew again, after five years! Alfred endured the cold as he and his troop mates headed up north. First they headed to Fort St. John's which surrendered on November 3rd and then to Montreal on that fell on November 13th. Alfred endured as his men fell around him in death; he was a nation person and could not die as long as his people stayed strong but was careful not to get hit lest he frighten his troop mates away. When Montreal fell and his men were planning to head towards Quebec City next, Alfred asked to be excused for a bit and they allowed him. Matthew was around here somewhere.

Alfred found out where Matthew was staying by finally tracking down the man who drove the carriage that brought Matthew up here in the first place. When he pretended to be a Loyalist and said that he wanted to meet his little brother, the man quickly told him the location to where Matthew was staying.

After some great amounts of searching, Alfred finally found the residence that housed Matthew. It was a small two storey house, smaller than the one they stayed at in the Americas, with a maple tree in the front yard. He could see that someone was inside since one of the windows was lit with a flickering fire. Alfred sprinted up the front steps and started knocking before he came to a complete stop before the door. Alfred shifted his feet when he heard speech, muffled by the house, and he recognized it to be Matthew's voice. Yes, Matthew _is_ here!

He waited impatiently for Matthew to open the door, wishing he would move faster since he was starting to lose feeling in his extremities. Damn, Quebec was cold.

When Matthew finally opened the door, he blinked his eyes in such a cute way that made Alfred want to take him up into his arms and hug him tight. But Alfred was dirty and didn't want the dirt and mud to transfer onto Matthew.

"A-Al..?"

"Yeah, gonna let me in or are you going to let me freeze out here on your doorstep?" Alfred gave a smile but it really was cold.

Matthew stuttered an apology and opened the door wider to allow Alfred to walk in. Alfred wanted to wipe his shoes on something to get the mud off but he daren't stay out longer in fear of actually freezing on Matthew's doorstep. Alfred looked around the house and noticed how... quaint and clean it was, excepting the new mud Alfred dragged in. He wondered if Matthew had a maid just like him or did Matthew clean it all himself?

"Do you want something to drink? Tea or...?"

Alfred flinched at the mention of tea and got a flashback of the _Boston Tea Party_. "Ugh, God no, not tea. Do you have coffee instead?" Alfred had developed the taste for coffee after depriving himself and his people of tea.

"Um... Maybe... but it'll take a long time for me to make so..."

"Then no, that's fine, I won't be here for long." Alfred was still cold and then he noticed one of the rooms was lit by a flickering flame. He headed in that direction and yes, the room was warmed by a fireplace!

"You're not...? Why not...?"

Alfred felt a tug at the back of his clothing turned around to see Matthew with his head down. Right, there was a reason why Alfred came here and it wasn't just to see Matthew after 5 years. He kneeled down, took Matthew's face in his hand and smiled when Matthew nervously said, "A-Al...?" Matthew was still adorable even after being 5 years apart.

"Come with me, Mattie."

"W-what?"

"Come with me, join with me and break away from England, Mattie. Be your own Nation and not a colony. Come with me."

Alfred didn't like it when Matthew started to back away at his words and that bear of his when it came up to Matthew and started to make comforting noises towards him. It made him feel as if _he's_ the bad guy!

"N-no... I can't. I can't Alfred, I can't."

_No, that shouldn't be your answer! _Alfred stood up and looked down on the two smaller figures."What do you mean you can't? You aren't actually saying that you don't want to come with me? That you want to stay here, with Arthur?"

"N-no... I mean y-yes... I mean no... I-I just can't, I can't Alfred!"

"You can't what? Can't come with me? Sure you can, just take my hand and I'll bring you to America, it's as simple as that. All you have to do is leave Arthur and fight with me. It's not hard at all Matthew." _This was wrong, all wrong. Matthew was supposed to come with me, no refusal whatsoever!_ Alfred screamed in his mind.

But Matthew kept backing away until he hit the wall and slid down with his hands covering his ears and his bear was still making those comforting noises. "I can't Alfred, I can't!! I can't...."

"You aren't seriously considering Arthur over me, are you? Arthur who cannot remember you half of the time? Arthur who obviously favoured me over you no matter what I did?" _Yes, you should come with me! I will love you more than Arthur! Why aren't you coming to my side?!_

Yes Alfred knew – how could he not when it was so obvious that even a polar bear could see it? But he never spoke up about it; he liked the attention from Arthur back then. Whenever Alfred felt guilty about it, he would lavish attention on Matthew to make up for it. Matthew should love him more than Arthur. Why isn't he?

"P-please Alfred, please..."

_This isn't working. This is not working! I need something, something else that Mattie can't refuse._ Alfred looked around the room for anything. The two figures on the floor did not notice this since he only moved his eyes and the fireplace behind him made his face fell into shadows, and his eyes fell onto a single rose in a small vase that sat beside a closed book on a table. _Yes, Francis!_

"Do you know who is helping me with my Revolution? Francis."

"Fran... cis...?"

Alfred felt victory well up in his chest and the ends of his mouth lifted when he got the reaction he desired from Matthew. "Yes, Francis, you know, France? He's been helping me from the shadows for a long time. He has been wondering though, how did you like his roses?"

_Yes, yes,_ Alfred exclaimed inside his head as he could see Matthew coming to the correct conclusion. "Yes that's right, Francis. You know, if you come with me, I can bring you back to your beloved Francis. He's willing to take you back, you know?" Alfred stretched out a hand towards Matthew and watched as Matthew lifted his own hand to reach for Alfred's. Alfred waited patiently, not rushing Matthew, as he watched the Matthew's hand intently. _Yes, yes... Take it! I know you want to!_

But at the last second, Matthew withdrew his hand and anger just exploded within Alfred. _NOOO!!!!_

"_Je suis très désolé!_ _Je suis très désolé mais je ne peux pas! Je ne peux pas!!_"

_WHY ISN'T THIS WORKING?!?! Why are you trying to make me feel guiltier by speaking in French?! WHY?!?!?!_

"So that's it, huh? You're going to choose Arthur over me? Over Francis?" Alfred took his hand back in fear of slapping the child senseless.

"_Non_...! No Alfred! I c-can't choose! I can't choose, Alfred! P-please! Please Alfred!!"

Alfred became angrier as Matthew started to tremble and cry. _It was not supposed to turn out like this! Why am I making you cry?!_

"_S'il vous plaît... s'il vous plaît... Je ne_... I... I can't Alfred... I can't choose...Please don't make me choose... _Please..._"

Alfred couldn't stand it anymore. He had to leave. There's no point staying. The longer Alfred stayed here the longer Matthew will keep on crying. Nothing will change. Matthew will stay with Arthur no matter what Alfred will say. He had to go.

"If you can't choose, then fine. I will choose for you. From now on, you and I are _enemies_. If I need to take Canada by force then so be it." _Yes, if I take Canada, then you will have to come to me whether you wish to stay with England or not. England _has_ to give you to me!_

Alfred turned to leave but was stopped as Matthew threw himself on his legs. "_S'il vous plait! S'il vous plait!! Ne me quitte pas!!_ Please, Alfred! I'm sorry! Please don't leave me!"

So close, Alfred almost took Matthew into his arms to bring him back to America and damn the consequences but no. Matthew didn't want that; Matthew wanted to stay with England. So Alfred took Matthew off his legs and tossed him away from himself in case he decided to take Matthew after all. "You've made your choice when you refused to come to my side and so I have made mine. Goodbye, Canada."

Alfred turned away without looking back and quickly walked out the front door and slammed it before he changed his mind. Matthew didn't see it but tears ran down Alfred's face as he left Matthew's property.

Alfred wiped the tears off his face as he neared his troop. _No, if I win over Quebec, then I will get Matthew. Matthew will come to me again. It's goodbye for now, Mattie. For now._

With that conviction, he and his troops headed for Quebec City under Colonel Arnold's watch. Alfred continued on even when his men were dying from the harsh journey. Alfred continued on when they failed to take Quebec City in December and he held onto the siege while his men were dying from the cold and smallpox and right till they were forced back by British reinforcements. He tried to take Quebec again in June at Trois-Rivières but when that too failed, he had to return to the Americas.

To that empty house.

Alfred sat in front of the roses, Matthew's roses, in the backyard but it hurt to look at them, hurt more to tend to them. He couldn't take care of them anymore and so it was better off if they were gone. He started to rip up the roses, ignoring the thorns as they pierced his hands, until the leaves and roses turned red with his blood. He would've continued until his hands were cut to the bone but somewhere in the back of his mind told him that it would be better if the roses burned. And so he stopped tearing them up and instead he isolated the rose bushes so the fire wouldn't spread to the house or the rest of the garden. Then, he lit it all on fire.

Alfred stood there until every rose petal and every rose leaf burned.

Just like that flickering fire at Matthew's house.

* * *

**_Notes:_**

Tralala~~ Ahaha so... Yeah... Alfred's side! I'm sorry but I can't make Alfred out to be an asshole XD. I loff him so much and loff him more when he's so caring towards Matthew! USCan = OTP (and a plague on USUK) but I am still not sure whether I should make this having pairings hum? Maybe another story methinks...

Well since this is an EXTRA it doesn't COUNT hum? So TRALALALA! NEXT chapter (for realz now) will be Arthur and Matthew!

**BlueStar123 -** Just curious, but what DOES "OTL" stand for? Looks familiar but I can't place it XD.


	10. And Then There Were Two

**Through my Eyes**

**And then there were two**

Matthew felt lost. He even _looked_ lost.

There were many times that Matthew would wake up at a sound late at night, probably a squirrel or raccoon, and he would rush down from his room on the second floor to open the front door to see... no one. Even though Matthew knew that Arthur and Alfred were both somewhere south fighting wars against each other, Matthew would wake up in the middle of the night without fail and check that door. During the day, he would sit in the room that had window facing the front yard and a perfect view of the front yard to see anyone coming towards the house and he would wait.

I had no doubts to whom he was waiting for; it would either be Arthur or Alfred, maybe even both. He wanted Arthur to come to tell him that the decision that he made was the correct one; that not going to Alfred was the right choice. He wanted Alfred to come to tell him that he was forgiven; that he was still loved. But obviously neither of them ever showed up and Matthew felt more and more unsure of himself.

Thus he waited for either of them or both of them. If Arthur managed to quell the rebellion and stop the Revolution then Alfred would come back and maybe Alfred might forgive Matthew then. If Alfred manages to win his Revolution, then that would've been the last conversation Matthew had with Alfred for a long, long time. I knew Matthew wasn't sure on which side to cheer for; he wanted to Alfred back but he also didn't want to begrudge Alfred's desire for freedom and so, he waited.

He waited for the Revolution to be over with whatever ending and although in the beginning it seemed like England would win, 8 years later from the Revolution's start, it ended with America's victory.

Alfred wasn't coming back after all.

* * *

The _Treaty of Paris_ was signed on September 3, 1783, formally ending the American Revolution. We had heard that the Americas wanted all of Quebec as one of the spoils of war but England was adamant about it and refused to give Quebec over, giving only the _Ohio_ region to America. Did that mean that Canada was a bit loved? By either of them? Or did America just wanted that last kick to England and England refused to lose his only colony left in the _New World_?

Matthew couldn't tell which but I think he didn't want to know either. He just wanted someone to come back and obviously that someone could not be Alfred who was now busy with his new found freedom, so that only left Arthur. But Arthur didn't show up for many days after the signing of the Treaty and Matthew worried that he was once again forgotten by Arthur.

Again, Matthew waited in that same room he had waited in all those times during the Revolution but this time, only for that blond-haired, green-eyed Englishman. For many days, no trace of said Englishman ever appeared until one late night, we both saw a wobbling figure walk up to Matthew's house.

Matthew raced to the front door and opened it before the Englishman had a chance to knock. For a moment, Arthur had a bewildered face on with one hand in the air poised to knock and then he toppled over and, with his size, immediately crushed Matthew under his weight. Matthew let out a pained sound when he hit the ground and I rushed to pull Arthur off of Matthew and with _my_ size, it took awhile.

Even from a distance, I could smell the alcohol just emanating from the Englishman's body. He was drunk and the smell was hurting my nose but I needed to get him off Matthew.

When I finally got the intoxicated man off of Matthew, Matthew quickly mumbled a soft "Thank you" to me and proceeded to close the door before the cold entered the house. Arthur sat on the floor, swaying a bit and looking at nothing in particular. Until Matthew kneeled in front of him did Arthur finally focus on him.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Obviously we both knew what was on Arthur's mind but Matthew needed to say something to break the silence.

"He's –hic– gone!" wailed Arthur who then practically threw himself onto Matthew's small body, engulfed him in a hug and started to sob. We didn't need any help figuring out who _he_ was.

Matthew was surprised at both the hug and the crying; very rarely did Arthur show any _weak _emotion around him and for a long time, we had believed that Arthur _never_ cried. Of course, having someone that you've raised for long repudiate you would cause anyone to cry but Arthur wasn't the only who had lost someone. Matthew did too and I wondered if Arthur was able to see that through his drunken stupor or he was just like rest of them and was pushing all of their problems onto Matthew even though he was still a child. Not like Matthew would say anything about it. With the way Matthew was and what Matthew feared would happen if he were to lash out, Matthew would always keep quiet and let things flow around him. He would accept everything as it came.

Matthew didn't say anything in answer to Arthur's outcry and instead he started to gently rub Arthur's back as Arthur sobbed into his clothing. Silently, small tears ran down Matthew's eyes but Matthew didn't make any sound and Arthur never noticed. Matthew kept comforting Arthur while he ignored his own pain in losing Alfred.

For a long while, the only sounds in the hallway were Arthur sobs until finally Arthur fell asleep in Matthew's small arms, either from crying too long or because of the alcohol he consumed, or probably both. Matthew shifted Arthur till he was lying on Matthew's lap and then he turned to me.

"Kumayama... Do you mind getting a blanket from the sitting room? I do not think we would be able to carry him anywhere..." Matthew spoke in a near whisper, careful to not wake Arthur.

I quickly ran to the sitting room to grab the blanket Matthew kept on the sofa just in case he fell asleep while reading or waiting for Arthur or Alfred to come and then I went back to where Matthew and Arthur was with a blanket in my mouth. When I returned, Matthew was leaning over Arthur, softly stroking his hair and was singing something so quietly that I had to move extremely close to him to hear what he was singing:

"_Dodo, l'enfant do,  
L'enfant dormira bien vite  
Dodo, l'enfant do  
L'enfant dormira bientôt."_

It was a French lullaby. One that Francis used to sing to _him_ when he was a whole lot younger and was not bothered with all the complexities of being a colony. When _he_ was naïve and happier.

Matthew continued to sing quietly, of course he was not singing for Arthur to go to sleep as Arthur is pretty much passed out from exhaustion or drunkenness but I believed he was singing for himself. It was just a small comfort to him when all seemed dark and terrible. Matthew continued singing with small tears still running down his face until he realized I was there with a blanket in my mouth. He stopped singing and with a small sad smile he removed the blanket from my mouth and placed it over Arthur tenderly as a parent would for a child. It was simply ironic when a child of twelve or thirteen would have to comfort an adult of twenty-three but Matthew didn't care, he needed to be strong for Arthur.

Matthew resumed his singing and I crawled over to his side and curled there, listening to the lullaby. Halfway through the lullaby, _his_ voice cracked and _he_ began to sob almost inaudibly, _his _tears splashing onto Arthur's forehead.

"_Je suis désolé mais j'ai juste besoin de... Juste besoin de..._" _Matthew_ said between his quiet sobs.

_I am sorry but I just need to... Just need to..._

I cuddled closer to his side to indicate that I don't care what he needed to do, as long as it made him a bit happier, I wouldn't care. _Matthew_ nodded as if in understanding and continued to weep quietly over Arthur's sleeping head. Matthew needed to be strong for Arthur who had just lost his _favourite_ child and strong for himself who had lost his brother, but _he_ needn't be strong right now. Tomorrow, tomorrow he will be strong, but not right now.

It was okay that I was the only one who would see _him_ cry.

* * *

We fell asleep in that position – me at Matthew's side, Arthur on his lap and Matthew sitting upright in the middle of the hallway and in front of the front door. Matthew and I were both woken up by a small groan coming from the figure on Matthew's lap.

Matthew gazed down on the prostrate figure on his lap and watched the Englishman blink a few times until he _looked_ at Matthew's face. There was a small silence between the two of them before Arthur spoke.

"... Alfred...?"

Matthew gave a weak smile towards Arthur. "I'm sorry but I am not Alfred, I am Matthew."

Arthur lifted himself off of Matthew's lap and it was then that he noticed the blanket over him. "I'm sorry but... When I did come here?"

"Last night." Matthew supplied.

"... Last night...?"

"Yes." Matthew stretched out his legs that were probably close to being numb from having the Englishman's head on it all night. "It seems like you drank... A lot... and I saw you coming up to the house and when I opened the door you fell over. I believed that neither me nor Kumagite would be able to carry you upstairs to the room so I decided that it was better for you to... rest here."

Arthur stared at Matthew for a moment and then he folded the blanket neatly in his hands. "I... didn't do anything last night? Said anything?"

A pause. "No," Matthew lied, "You just passed out."

Matthew figured it was better for Arthur to not realize that he regretted the loss of Alfred – he probably would've spluttered indignantly and refused it anyways. Arthur didn't notice the pause and half-walked and half-wobbled into the nearby room to place the blanket on a chair. He placed a head to his forehead and let out a groan.

"God my bloody head hurts..."

At that, Matthew went to the kitchen, half-limping as the feeling was starting to come back to his legs, got a cup and filled it with cold water. He brought the cup to Arthur and Arthur took it with a word of thanks and gulped it all down.

Arthur looked at the empty cup and then to Matthew, totally ignored me, gave a sigh and patted Matthew on the head.

"I guess it's just you and me now, huh?"

"Yes... And Kumakicho" Matthew said quietly.

Arthur laughed a little at that comment. "Yes, and that bear of yours."

They both smiled at each other and maybe, I had hoped, that this time Arthur would be a better brother to Matthew than before.

* * *

It had seemed so at the beginning of this "new found relationship" between the two of them where they were both connected by the loss of Alfred that Arthur _was_ being a better brother towards Matthew. Arthur was playing with Matthew and reading books to Matthew whenever Matthew asked. He stayed for longer periods of time at Matthew's house than he did when from before Alfred's Revolution and would let Matthew sleep with him whenever he had a nightmare.

All in all, it had _seemed_ that Arthur was trying to become a better brother but as time passed, discrepancies started to occur. He would disappear at night and come back smelling of alcohol and such disappearances began to increase in number as the weeks passed by. Just like Alfred and his town excursions back then. Matthew never asked where Arthur went just like how he never asked Alfred. It was obvious where Arthur went every time given that he smelled so strongly of alcohol when he returned.

The "disappearances" started to become more frequent and longer where at the beginning, Arthur would leave sometime before dinner but would make it back when dinner was ready and only smelled lightly of alcohol but as time passed, Arthur would leave somewhere in the afternoon and would not return until very late in the night and smelled like he _washed_ in alcohol. Many times when he returned from his bar/tavern visits, he would refuse to look at Matthew and when he did look at Matthew, he would _always_ have a sad face on.

Matthew didn't understand why but never asked Arthur about it. Arthur would usually go straight to his room on the 2nd floor and pass out after his bar visits. Matthew would be there in the morning with a glass of water every time and every time Arthur would wake up with "...Alfred?" on his lips. Matthew would always push it off, blaming it on the alcohol that made Arthur mistake him for Alfred and would correct him with an "I'm sorry but I am not Alfred, I am Matthew" every time.

Soon, Arthur began to call him _Alfred_ even when he was sober.

It began first when Arthur was in the study – it was smaller than the one in Alfred's house but it was enough to do work in it – and Matthew poked his head into the room with a book in his hand and me behind him, like usual.

"Arthur... when you're done can you read a book to me?"

"I can't right now, _Alfred_, I need to catch up on these paperwork I have neglected for the past few days." Arthur spoke without looking up from his writing.

"But I am not–" Matthew started.

"What was that, Matthew?" Arthur finally looked up and turned to stare at Matthew. Matthew stood still and I could see him brush off that slip of the tongue internally. Maybe he heard it wrong?

"Nothing... but can you read to me after you're done?"

"Yes, yes I can." Arthur waved his right hand as he turned back to his papers and resumed working on them. Matthew left the study right after, believing that it was only a hearing mistake and continued into the sitting room to read the book himself.

But it wasn't a hearing mistake at all.

Arthur began calling Matthew _Alfred_ more often after that. Arthur never noticed and Matthew stopped trying to correct him. When was it that _he_ finally realized what he was to Arthur? That he was a _replacement_ for Alfred. I looked up at Matthew one day when Arthur, once again, mistakenly called Matthew _Alfred _and he looked back down on me with a melancholic smile, picked me up and murmured into my fur.

"I know Kumajiro... But he... He misses Alfred and although I can't be Alfred for him... I'll... I'll let him call me whatever he likes... He doesn't realize it. It's alright if it helps him..."

_It's alright if it hurts me._ I could almost hear him say it but of course I knew he wouldn't say _that_ out loud in fear that it would make it all that more true and painful.

So it continued like that until Arthur had to go back to England to fight more wars once again. The Napoleonic Wars began around 1803 and Arthur rarely came to the house anymore. It became just the same as before; only Matthew and I were left in the house.

And then all of a sudden, in 1812, America declared war on England and started to invade Canada.

* * *

_**Notes:**_

**Translation for the Lullaby:  
**Sleepy time, the young one sleeps,  
The child will sleep very soon  
Sleepy time, the young one sleeps,  
The child will sleep oh, so soon.

And then! Yeah! So I have decided to make this fanfic no pairings so aside from the slash (teehee) there will be no outright pairings AT ALL. I think I would do a pairing one for another fanfic if I were to start one. (Most likely a USCan but with lots of sadness... and angst... prolly acause apparently I have this inability to write "happy" or "humour" stories IN ANY WAY.) And yes, I do quite adore USCan because they're so fricken adorable together!

So maybe reason for England's mistaken of Canada so often hum? God knows but alwell! Next chapter is the War of 1812 and it's going to be full of ANGST and SADNESS and a LITTLE TWIST just from me to you! TEEHEE I'M SO EXCITED! Though it'll be awhile before I can cough something up since school has started again! Well, till next chapter!


	11. This Time I Will Save You

**EDIT:** Ahaha so hilarious, no one noticed that I accidently put "America declared war on June 19, **_1815_**" and not "_**1812**_" even though this is about War of 1812 XD. Or maybe it was noticed but no one thought to tell me? My friend just pointed this out when I showed the chapter to him and it's been like... 10 days since this chapter was out. Fixed it now XD.

* * *

**Through my Eyes**

**This time I will save you**

Matthew had not seen Alfred for 37 years, since that day in the house in 1775. That day when Alfred left him behind. We had thought that he forgot about us and was occupied with his new nation so it was a complete surprise to the both of us when we heard sounds of battle on _Canadian_ soil. Surprised more to have learned that America had declared war on Great Britain.

Matthew didn't join the fights, battles, the militias, or the army. How could he when he had little to no battle experience at all? Even more so, he didn't want to face Alfred again. All around him were sounds of warfare and he _felt_ his people die but he didn't know what to do. He wanted, I knew, Arthur to come back and tell him what to do, what he _should_ do, but Arthur never came. We also have not seen Arthur for about 15 years; Arthur was fighting his own wars on lands overseas and he could not come.

In the span of 37 years, Matthew had grown to a youth of 15 years – the same 'age' when Alfred demanded his Independency. His features became more defined and his long tresses of hair framed his face. If anyone had looked, they would have found him beautiful, breathtaking even when looking deep into his eyes of mixed violet and blue, but no one ever did. Not even Arthur who only saw Matthew as Alfred's replacement.

Matthew also grew in height although he was not as tall as Alfred when he was this "age". Matthew had grown in appearance, but he had not changed much from 37 years ago. He still waited for someone to come and tell him what to do. He was still dependent on Arthur but Arthur would not come. And so he waited again, in hopes that the war would be over and he wouldn't be forced to fight the brother whom he dearly missed and still loved even after what happened in 1775.

Matthew didn't want to fight him.

News of the wars progress came to us in small bits - wars on the Atlantic front, wars at the 5 Lakes, and wars nearing Upper Canada. Even the _Aboriginals _were fighting even though this was clearly a war between Americans and the English. Matthew didn't understand why the _Other_ people, as we used to call them, would jump into the fray like that. And all of them were dying. _All_ of them – the Aboriginals, the Americans, the Canadians, and the English. In this war that made no sense to Matthew at all.

America had its reasons to declare war but of course none of it was made privy to Canada. Because of England's war with France, England forbade America to trade with France, even though America was not involved in _their_ war, and the ports were hindered. They wanted free trade and sailors' rights. America declared war on June 19, 1812 and Matthew didn't know why.

Matthew would hold me close as he stared out the window at the world outside his home. The Americans were nearing closer and closer to the small town in which he lived in and he was scared. I too was scared but not for the same reasons as Matthew. I didn't want innocent Matthew to be pulled into the World of Wars because I knew that war changes people and nation persons even more so. I mean, look at America. I didn't want that to happen to Matthew but even I knew that would be impossible. Human nature would see to that.

* * *

About a year had passed since the day America declared war and it was some day in April 1813 when Matthew stopped gazing out the window at essentially nothing and began to stare in one direction.

"… He's here…" he mumbled quietly. I was resting beside him so I heard him clearly.

I looked up at him in confusion and he turned to look down at me.

"Alfred… He's here…" Matthew said to me. If I could speak, I would've asked him '_How do you know that?' _but of course I couldn't so I instead gave him a questioning glance.

"I don't know how, but I just know. He's… somewhere over there…" Matthew waved his hand in a vague direction. It almost looked like he was pointing to the direction in which York stood but it was a bit off. "I need… to go see him…"

I turned so fast that I swear I almost cracked my neck to face Matthew again but he was already walking away, went up the stairs and into his bedroom. I followed.

He went to the drawer and pulled out something red. It was a uniform, a soldier's uniform of England's colours. The uniform was given to him by the Governor of Upper Canada in case Matthew ever decided to join the war – Matthew never touched it until that day. He hastily dressed himself but when he finished he paused and seemed like he was rethinking whether or not to remove the outfit. Instead, he decided to don a large brown coat that mostly hid the red and the obvious signs that screamed out "_I AM A BRITISH SOLDIER, PLEASE SHOOT ME_". Matthew practically ran down the stairs and to the front door where a musket lay against the wall. He picked up the weapon and shakingly held it close to his body – the weapon was practically taller than him lengthwise. I was pretty sure that he wasn't expecting to _use_ the weapon, but I guess it was better safe than sorry. But it was safer if he didn't go so I quickly ran up to him and held him back by his pant legs when he almost went through the front door.

I gave a small whimper to indicate that I didn't want him to leave the safe confines of the house and out into the battle-ridden lands. Matthew again looked down with a sad expression on his face.

"I have to go, Kumadoremon. Maybe… Maybe I can ask Alfred to stop fighting. Stop making the Canadians, _my_ people, fight." Matthew glanced away from me. "…I don't know, but… I got to do something… I can't stay here and do nothing when it's my people who are dying…"

He looked back at me. "I'm sorry, okay? You have to stay here, Kumayoshi." My claws were removed from his pants as he bent down to softly take them off. He held my paws in his hands and he looked into my eyes once more. "I can't bring you with me; it'll be too dangerous for you."

_But what about you?!_ I wanted to say. Matthew stood up with a cheerless smile, "Take good care of the house while I am gone, okay?" I nodded slowly and he turned around to walk out the door.

"And I will try hard not to get shot…" Matthew muttered under his breath as the door closed shut with a resounding slam. I stared at the door for a few moments before I decided to 'take care of the house' from the sitting room. I wondered if I had made the right choice in letting Matthew go.

It wasn't until later that I realized that I shouldn't have let him leave the house.

* * *

Two days after Matthew left, an explosion occurred near York. And about a day or two later, smoke covered the sky but it wasn't smoke from gunfire or cannon fire – it was smoke from burning buildings. It was April 27, 1813.

York was burning.

Somewhere deep in my chest, I felt very uneasy watching the smoke rise up from York. Matthew was headed that way in search of Alfred. He… wouldn't have gone to York? He wasn't caught up in that explosion two days ago right? As I watched the smoke rise into the sky, I felt more and more uneasy.

Something wasn't right – something felt _wrong_. It was then that a complete sense of panic overcame me and I ran out of the house without a second thought. I ran towards the direction of York. It was generally a few days walk from where Matthew and I lived but I managed to lessen the journey to about a day with sheer speed and cutting right through the forests that were in between.

When I arrived at York, some of the fires were still burning but most of them have reduced the buildings to just burned wood and had little semblance of the grand structures they once were. Americans were everywhere and they were looting. They were looting and pillaging the empty houses in which its residences have ran away in the wake of the battle. The battle that the Canadians have obviously had lost.

I ignored the crude Americans with their desire in their "spoils" and the Americans did not notice me because of that very same desire. I continued on to find Matthew. He _had_ to be somewhere in York, I could just _feel _it.

I finally found him behind a burning and burnt Parliament building in which none of the Americans went near. Save for one.

I wouldn't have noticed anyone behind there if not for the sound of a slap, the pained yelp that almost occurred the same time and then the sound of a body hitting the ground right after.

"D-don't..." a weak voice spoke. Oh God, it was Matthew's! I ran towards the sound of his weak, oh so weak voice. Why does it sound so weak?

"Don't what?" spoke another voice, Alfred's voice but it sounded more… malicious, cruel. I turned the corner just as Alfred aimed a well directed kick to Matthew's ribs and the sickening sound of a bone cracking filled the air.

Then all I saw was red.

With a roar, I rammed myself into America's side and knocked him off balance. America was thrown to the side a few meters by the force of my ram. He seemed to be a bit disoriented and did not get up. I slowly padded over, extending my claws so I can rip his filthy face out for what he did to Matthew. Or I was planning to but I stopped when I heard a voice from behind me.

"Ku… Kumajiro…?" Matthew tried to get up but only to collapse moments later. "Wah…What are you… doing here…?"

It was then that I noticed the _state_ Matthew was in. First was that his hair was a mess and was matted with dirt and _blood_, his blood, no doubt from the various cuts all over his body, some from the sharp rocks and other things from the ground, majority of them seemed to be clean cuts, like from a knife or a blade. Most of the cuts, I realized when I walked closer to him, were centered around his… shredded clothing. The red uniform Matthew so carefully kept and never wore till that day few days ago were reduced to little more than pieces of cloth over his abused body. I looked around the area and could see sliced bits of the uniform strewn around. There was a musket, Matthew's musket, thrown recklessly off the side and another weapon that was placed almost lovingly down on the ground a few paces from where Matthew curled on the floor and I beside him.

A whimper came from Matthew that caused me to turn back to him as he tried to get up once again. That movement made me notice the many bruises that stood out against his pale skin. There were _so many_ bruises upon his body, including the one already forming where America's boot connected with Matthew's ribs and even more were forming still. What had America did to Matthew?! I growled at the thought of America and it was then that I heard the sound of body moving from the side of me.

"Jesus, that surprised me!" America finally regained his balance, got up and started to make his way back to Matthew. "Didn't know that bear had it in him, Mattie!"

"D… al… hat…" Matthew said so quietly that I even I couldn't hear him even though I was really close to him.

"What was that, Mattie?" America brushed off dirt off his clothing as he neared us until he was about 5 steps away from us. I noticed he too changed in the 37 years apart, though not as much as Matthew, America now looked like a youth of 17 years.

"Don't call me that!" Matthew hissed out and clutched his side in pain. I saw the bruising marks around his neck, finger-shaped, when he moved. I spun around to glare and growl at America and dared him to come any closer. America stopped where he stood, gave a wary look to me and then looked at Matthew behind me.

"Now why not, Mattie? Aren't I your _favorite_ brother?"

"You… you!" gasped Matthew, "You-you're burning down York!"

America waved his hand in the air as if to deflect that outburst of Matthew's, "That was not of my doing, my people did that on their own."

Matthew took in a long shuddering breath while still curled up on his side. America titled his head as he stared at him. "You know, I should make do on my word and bring you to Dearborn, or maybe even President Madison."

I growled deep in my throat when he made a move towards where Matthew and I were and America once again stopped. "You know what? I should take care of that stupid bear of yours first." He reached down, picked up the musket that was left on the ground and proceeded to walk again until he was right in front of me. He pointed the barrel of the gun at my face and aimed it so what when it was shot, the projectile would not hit Matthew who lay behind me and, from the sounds of him, was about to drift off into unconsciousness. "Call this revenge for that knockout earlier."

"…No…" Matthew, who apparently had a bit of coherency left, made a groaning noise and I thought, as I stared down the barrel of America's gun, _No more._

I was tired of being useless. I was tired of only being able to _watch_ as everyone tortured Matthew mentally and physically and unable to _help him_. I wanted it all to end.

With great determination, before America pulled the trigger to lodge a bullet in my head, I grabbed a fistful of dirt in each of my paws and threw them at America's face. America immediately dropped his weapon and started to claw at his eyes. "UGH! YOU STUPID BEAR!!" He fell to his knees trying to remove the grit and dirt from his eyes.

I quickly picked up Matthew with my _hands?_ and started to run away from the flailing figure of America's. There were so much adrenalin rushing through me that I did not realize the _change_ that had came over me and it wasn't until Matthew started to struggle in my grip that I noticed something was… different.

Was the ground always that far way? Was Matthew always this small? How in the world did I manage to carry Matthew when Matthew was always the one who carried me?

I could hear American soldiers heading in our direction, probably to see why _Alfred_ was screaming in pain so I ran into the nearest empty home and closed the door behind me as the soldiers ran by. I let out a sigh of relief, still trying to hold the struggling figure in my hands as to not drop him.

… Wait… _Hands?_

In my shock I almost dropped Matthew as I stared at my _human hands_. What? There was a mirror in the already looted house and I walked towards it, every step uncertain as the one previous until I stood in front of it.

Yup, that was a _human_ figure holding up the weakly thrashing Matthew and it would seem that that person was _me. _This human figure, apparently myself, had black obsidian eyes with long white eyelashes and long white hair that trailed down my back. Weird. I was snapped out of my staring process when Matthew began to moan words.

"… No… no… please… no more… It… hurts… It _hurts_…" Matthew's bruised hands were trying to push me away but of course his attempts were weak and ineffectual. I sat down on the sofa that was in the room and shifted Matthew so I had one of my hands free. I lightly brushed his dirty hair away from his face and I again was angry, at America, for the more bruises on his face. I wasn't sure if Matthew was trying to open eyes or he was too tired to. I could tell though that one of his eyes was swollen shut. So horrible.

Matthew continued to move away and moan in pain.

"Shh… Shh…" I managed to say softly while trying to soothe him, "It's alright, he's not here anymore. You're safe now…"

It was strange hearing _human words_ come out of my mouth and even more to hear my _voice_. My voice was a low baritone voice. I continued to repeat the words over and over while stroking his hair gently until he calmed down and fell into a deep sleep.

When Matthew was asleep, I then noticed that I was _naked_ and Matthew was almost not much better than I with his shreds of clothing left on him. I moved him onto the sofa and began to look through the house for any articles of clothing left in the house. Even though this house was already looted of its valuables, the looters did not bother with clothing. I felt sorry for stealing from an already looted house but I managed to find some clothing but they were small on me and large on Matthew. Well, better than nothing I guess. When I dressed both myself and Matthew, I took him up into my arms, looked out the door for any signs of the America soldiers, and then bolted. I was heading to the nearest post that I knew that had British/Canadian soldiers and the governors and generals would know who Matthew is and help him – I did not know much about healing broken bones.

Matthew stirred a bit in our flight from York and looked up at me drowsily from the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"… Who…?"

"Shh… It's okay," I said, "It's going to be alright, we're going to go to one of the camps. This time…"

Before I got to finish my sentence, Matthew drifted back to sleep.

_This time… I will save you._

* * *

I entered Kingston exhausted; I had been running all the way here without rest and I was little used to running on _two feet_. When I entered, I had guns immediately pointed at the two of us but one of them lowered theirs when they saw the condition of the person in my arms and walked towards the two of us warily.

"You two are Canadians?"

I nodded but was cut short when Matthew let out small whimper and curled up closer to my chest as the solider neared. Matthew was running a fever.

"What's wrong with him?" The soldier stepped closer and took out a hand to touch Matthew but Matthew twisted away before the hand could touch him and screamed out a '_NO!' _which caused the man to take back his hand and everyone around to stare at the two of us strangely.

I wanted to growl at the looks but instead I snapped out at the soldier who almost touched Matthew, "He's been attacked by Americans is what happened. Is Lieutenant Governor Sheaffe here?"

"Yes… He is… Why?" the soldier looked at me, probably suspicious why a _commoner_ was asking for someone of high status.

"Tell him that _Matthew _of_ Canada_ is here. He will understand what it means." I finally growled at the soldier when he made no move to deliver the message. In fear, the soldier quickly ran off in the direction I would assume where Sheaffe was.

I gave out a sigh of relief, hoping that Sheaffe _would_ recognize Matthew or else I came here for no reason at all. As it turns out, Sheaffe did recognize Matthew and even though he didn't know who I was, he still gave us a room in an unoccupied house and allowed doctors to take care of Matthew's wounds. The doctors had a lot of trouble trying to tend Matthew since he kept trying to squirm away from their touch; I believed that in his half conscious state, he thought that it was still Alfred trying to hurt him more. It wasn't until I held his hand and told him soothingly that _everything was alright_ was when he stopped struggling and allowed to the doctors to do their job peacefully.

The doctors shook their heads at the damage wrought on Matthew's body, and even though most of the wounds had healed over – due to the personified nation's ability to heal – the wounds still looked horrible with blood crusted over the slashes across his abdomen and chest and the many splattering of black and blue all over his body. Not to mention his many broken bones. After attempting to ask me of _how_ Matthew got these wounds and only receiving a gruff "I don't know, Americans did it" in return because I really _didn't_ know what Alfred did, the doctors left the room and told me to call them if anything changed in Matthew.

I watched them leave and closed the door behind them. Matthew was in a fevered sleep. Taking a seat on the chair near Matthew's head, I pondered if this change of mine was permanent and with that thought, I changed back. Just like that. The clothing I wore fell off my small polar bear body and I looked at my _paws._ Huh, I guess not.

It only took a day or two for Matthew's fever to go down, most of his cuts healed over and the bruises to fade to sickly yellowy-green colour. Another half a day for Matthew to regain consciousness. During that time, I was experimenting with this new _ability_ of mine. I could apparently change back and forth with a _very_ strong thought and it would seem I retained my ability to _talk_ in both forms. Or maybe I could always talked in polar bear form but I never really tried – I mean really, why bother? But it turns out that I could and it was weird how my voice is different in both forms. For my _human_ form, my voice was low but for my _normal_ form, it was a soft, almost a childlike voice. Very weird.

I had decided to keep my 'transformation' or the ability to transform a secret from Matthew so when Matthew woke up, I was in my small fluffy form. He looked blearily around the room until his eyes turned to my direction. I was on the floor to the left of his bed.

"Kuma… jiro…?" Matthew said weakly, trying to get into a sitting position but only managing to get up about a few centimeters before the weight of his own body pulled him down. "Ow… this hurts a lot…"

Matthew shifted a bit so he can see me more clearly and I walked closer to the bedside to help him.

"So… I didn't imagine you there after all…" I shook my head and he stared at me a bit before looking around.

"Where… where are we?" A pause. "Oh right you can't…"

"Kingston."

Matthew blinked and then looked at me, like REALLY looked at me. "… What…?"

"We're in Kingston, Lieutenant Governor Sheaffe allowed us to stay in this room while you are recovering," I said as if I didn't notice Matthew's complete surprise at me speaking _English_ words.

"You can… talk…?"

"Yes."

Matthew stared blankly at me. "For how long…?"

I gave a noncommittal shrug for I wasn't sure myself and I didn't want him to know about my _other_ form either. I figured it was best for him not to know since it might be too much for him to handle or bother with.

The next few moments were passed in silence until Matthew spoke up again. "So… you can talk all along…?" I neither agreed nor disagreed.

"You could talk all along… Ah… Ahaha…" Matthew started laughing for some reason and worriedly, I climbed on the bed to check on him closer. Somewhere in between, he started crying.

"So… You could talk…" _Sob_. "You could talk…" _More sobs_.

Unsure of what to say or do, I just kept quiet.

Matthew placed his arms over his face and started to sob harder.

"… I'm so tired, Kumayoshi, so tired… why –_sob-_ is this all happening…?" He turned on his side and curled into a ball, ignoring the pain that probably came from his healing ribs and other bones. "Al… Alfred probably hates me now, doesn't he…?"

Oh. He was talking about the war and his _family,_ or was his family, now.

"H-he wouldn't l-listen to me and, and then he g-got m-mad –_sob-_ and he started to h-hit me and it hurt… hurt so much… I… I didn't understand why –sob- he w-was doing it… It hurt…"

Still unsure on what to do, I just softly stroked his hair in some semblance of comfort, like all those times I did before.

"H-he h-hates me… He _hates_ me –_sobs- Il me déteste… C'est pourquoi il le fait… C'est pourquoi_…"

The room was filled with quiet sobs as Matthew's body shook with them.

"… I want to die…" Matthew whispered out, covering his face and then wept into his hands. "I want to die… What point is there for me being here…?"

Oh poor, poor child. Poor forsaken child. Matthew had _bonded_ with three people in the years he was cognizant to know life. Of those three, two had thrown him away and the third was not even here to protect nor care for him. It is no wonder Matthew would feel so lost and discarded. Unwanted.

But it was different now, I could talk now. For all those times I couldn't, I wanted to make this one count.

"No… you cannot die," I said quietly.

Matthew looked up from his hands and glared at me – it was a face I was unfamiliar having directed at me by him. "Why? Why shouldn't I die?" Matthew spat out, opting for anger instead of sadness, "No one w-wants me. F-Francis didn't want me, Alfred didn't want me. I am not even sure if Arthur wants me! I am nothing! There's no one in the _world_ who wants me!"

"I want you."

Silence. Matthew couldn't articulate a reply to that so I continued.

"Even if no one wants you, I would still want you. You cannot die because who will take care of me?" Even though I needed little to none maintenance. "Who will feed me?" Even though I was still able to catch or get my own food if need be. "Who will love me?" Even though I didn't need Matthew to love me the way he loved or still love his pseudo-family.

I looked deeply in his eyes and brushed my paw across his damp face.

"To whom shall I love?"

Matthew made a small noise at that last sentence and tears fell anew from his eyes. He took me into his arms as he possibly could from lying on his side and said, "Yes… That's t-true isn't it? You've been with me longer than a-any of them even though you didn't need to…"

He breathed into my fur a few breaths before he continued again. Though I couldn't see it, I knew he closed his eyes, letting his tears fall freely and dampen my fur. "Yes… you'll be with me no matter what right…?"

I mumbled a '_yes'_ and hugged him back.

"Yes… Yes you would…" Matthew soon fell back to sleep in exhaustion, whether from self-loathing or from self-realization I did not know, but he fell asleep with a rare smile and refused to let me go.

_Did I save you just a little bit then?_

* * *

The doctors came to check up on Matthew the next day, expecting a fevered and still broken Matthew but instead they came with an almost healed Matthew. They were shocked to see _that_ Matthew but I think they were more shocked to see a live polar bear resting in his arms when last they left him, there was a human. They almost shot me but Matthew told them off with rarely shown fury and when they tried to touch him to see his already fading wounds, he moved away and told them it was unnecessary, that he was almost fully healed and that he needed to see Lieutenant Governor Sheaffe.

Matthew was finally going to join the war.

A few days later saw Matthew all suited up and heading out to the nearest post where the fighting was. I could tell Matthew wanted to leave me behind in Kingston but he didn't wish to leave me where there might be a high chance of me getting shot by the soldiers or the civilians by fear. So he took me with him but left me in a place where he knew I wouldn't get caught in the crossfire and he would come back after the battles.

Matthew killed a man for the first time.

He came to me after his first battle with blood on his body, some missed gunshot wounds but nothing truly serious and most of them already healing. His hand was shaking fiercely as he almost threw his musket to the side of me and knelt down in front of me. He was staring at his hands as if he could see the killed man's blood on his hands. Of course he couldn't see it as he killed the man at a distance but he stared at his hand nonetheless. Matthew wept and his shoulders hunched over with the guilt of the man's, or maybe even men's, life over his head.

"Francis, Arthur, and Alfred must've done it many times. Many times." He said, "But it feels so dirty… So dirty…" Matthew wept tears onto his outstretched hand as if to wash the sins off from his hands.

I took a container of water that I had near me and poured most of it over his hands. "This is war," I said, "It is expected to take lives."

Matthew stared at the water drip off his hands. "But it doesn't mean that I will feel any better for it…" Matthew whispered.

Even though Matthew was loath to take lives, he still fought in battles. He fought winning battles, he fought losing battles and sometimes, he fought with Alfred in the battlefield. Matthew fought under British Generals who knew _who_ he was. He would tell me about his battles whenever he returned. Sometimes he returned with wounds that would've crippled or maybe even killed a normal man. I was pretty sure he shocked many of the doctors that Matthew would allow to treat him. Most of the time, Matthew would do his own patching up or allow me to do it – even though I could only do so much with my paws.

During the times he wrapped bandages around his body was when he would tell me about his battles and he would always linger on those that he had fought against America – Alfred.

"He treats me as if I was not there," he would say, "he doesn't even _look_ in my direction and even when he does, it seems like he was _looking_ through me. Like he was refusing my existence."

I would just sit there and listen to him tell his stories, helping him sometimes if required for his patching up. And then he would march to another place where a battle was taking place and I would follow him. I guess it was a pretty weird picture to have a 15 year old walking to a battle with a polar bear in tow but it couldn't be helped. I didn't want to leave him and he didn't want me gone.

It continued liked this until the end of the war.

* * *

Matthew got his _revenge_, if you could call it that, for the Burning of York.

The Napoleonic Wars in Europe was just about over and England was able to send reinforcement to aid in the war between Canada and America. Even though Arthur himself had still not returned, the idea of reinforcement had lightened Matthew's mood just a bit.

It was August 24th, 1814 – a little more than a year since the Burning of York and a little more than 2 years since the beginning of this war – when Matthew and a battalion of soldiers under General Ross's order and watch entered Washington. They had met with resistance but small enough that it was easily overcame and Matthew had deemed it safe enough to carry me along. Alfred wasn't there, or any great American armies really, since most of them were at Baltimore, believing that that was where the Canadian armies were going to head to. Matthew was grateful for that small stroke of luck.

Matthew didn't enter the White House but only stood outside as the soldiers went in. The building was mostly empty save for some articles and apparently a dinner set for 40. Matthew didn't see any of it, only the white walls of the large building and I was held in his hands.

Soon the building went up in flames.

The soldiers around him, who came out after 'exploring' the White House, were laughing at the spectacle but no such laughter came from Matthew. Matthew just stood there, blankly staring at the red flames as they coiled up and licked the sky.

"You know…" Matthew said into my furs, silently enough that only I could hear him, "This… doesn't make me happy at all. It really doesn't, Kumachiro…"

No Americans were killed or injured during all this.

The war was formally ended about a few months after this event.

* * *

The _Treaty of Ghent_ was signed on December 24th, 1814 in the United Kingdom of the Netherlands. Matthew did not go to the signing, only Alfred and Arthur were there since the war _was_ between America and England after all, Canada just so happened to be a colony of England's and the nearest colony to America. Canada was again not remembered or involved because it was _Canada_ but because it was _something _or _someone else's_. In the end, the treaty had revoked anything that had occurred in the War, mostly territorial gains or losses. _Nothing changed_ from the war's beginning. Nothing that had caused the Americans to call war upon England was rectified. In the end, the war was _fought for nothing_ and was left only with dead bodies and more debts. _This war was absolutely for __**nothing**_. Neither side had won this war.

Neither side, England or America, had any tremendous loss but I believe Canada, or rather Matthew, did.

Matthew had lost his brother completely and he was lost to him. He had lost his ability to fully trust anyone and probably had lost his ability to truly love anyone anymore. And he, for a moment, had lost his faith in England – Arthur.

Arthur came, finally, to visit Matthew after the signing of the _Treaty of Ghent_. He had come to congratulate Matthew on 'protecting' Canada against the Americans and on his first endeavor into the World of Wars. Matthew took in the praise meekly, rare as it is to come from Arthur. When they were younger, many praises did come from Arthur then but almost all of them were for Alfred. No wonder how Alfred became a self-assured brat while Matthew had so little self-esteem.

After all of Arthur's rare praises, he made a move to pat Matthew on the head or the shoulder and then something strange happened. Matthew almost, practically, jumped out of the way of Arthur's hand, his eyes were wide open and his breaths came in small pants. Arthur was left dumbstruck with his hand still out at Matthew's reaction.

"_J-je… su_—I-I am s-sorry," apologized Matthew, "I… I didn't know why I did that…"

Arthur smiled. "No, it's nothing lad, first wars are always like that."

"Y-yes, I guess so…" Matthew replied uncertainly and moved back in front of Arthur again.

"Yes, do not worry about it, it will get better as you get more wars," Arthur said as it was a _good_ thing to be involved in many wars. Arthur finally brought his hand down onto Matthew's shoulders and when Arthur hand touched to Matthew's shoulder, Matthew visibly flinched. Arthur didn't take that movement as anything but I realized it then.

Because of what Alfred did, Matthew became afraid of any and all human touch.

* * *

**_Translations:_**

_Il me déteste… C'est pourquoi il le fait… C'est pourquoi…_ - He hates me... That's why he's doing it... That's why...

**_Notes:_**

PHEW! That was LONG! There are prolly a lot of errors and like... confusing overall but I just wanted it to be OVER with and stuff! And so yeah, Kumajiro can talk because he has a human form that noone knows about! About that, at the time I thought about it, I thought it was like "SO AWESOME" but now that it's like down and done with... It was a stupid idea but alwell! Becomes [relatively] "important" later or whatever... Don't worry, no pairings like I promised! All this is familial love! (Though now that Kumajirou has a human form, I could easily do Kumajiro/Canada ahaha BUT I WON'T SO DON'T WORRY!)

If curious, this is how I "pictured" Kumajirou's human form.

http:// i286. photobucket. com/ albums/ ll86/ Saloe23/ Pictures/ KumajirouCanada. jpg (Erase the spacebars) - it was a quick sketch so yeahh...

Actually, I think this was the reason I wanted Kumajirou in human form XD (Because drawing human form Kumajirou is hella fun). He has long eyelashes because remember that strip in which Canada had a free weekend and was gonna clean his house but he got distracted by Kumajirou's eyelashes and stared at them throughout the whole weekend? Yeah, I loved that one because it was so cute and hilarious. And he has long hair because WHO DOESN'T LIKE LONG-HAIRED BISHIES?!?! And plus, I haven't seen a (male) nation person with long hair (aside from China), I think.

Hum, till next chapter I guess? Though I haven't a clue on what to do next (this was as far as I "thought" for this story XD)


	12. Extra: That Which Was Not Seen

**Through my Eyes - Extra**

**Matthew – That which was not seen**

He felt it. It was faint but it was surely there. He felt _him._

"… He's here…" Matthew murmured softly and looked down on Kumajiro who sat beside him. "Alfred… He's here…" Matthew received a questioning glance in return.

Matthew didn't know _how_ he could tell that Alfred, his _brother_ - though not really a brother as they did not come from the same womb, or any wombs at that - but he could. It was a weak feeling, like a small ember in a dying fire, but he could still feel it nonetheless. Matthew relayed this to his polar bear friend and waved his hand in a direction a bit off from York. Alfred was moving, walking and from the _feeling _of him, he was headed towards York.

"I need… to go see him," he said and without any thought, Matthew turned around and started for his bedroom. He didn't realize that he was followed until he pulled the red uniform out of his drawer and saw Kumajiro there.

Matthew had never so much as _looked_ at the uniform since it was given to him at the start of the war one year ago. He thought he would never wear it but as he was planning to journey out, he needed to be distinguished from Canadian and American. After Matthew put on the uniform, he immediately regretted doing so. Why did he need to wear the uniform when normal clothing was fine – civilians can go out too, not that they would choose to do so. What's worse was the red on the clothing would make him stick out like a sore thumb and make him perfect target practice for any American with a gun. Matthew decided to wear a large coat over the uniform in efforts to hide the red and then he quickly went down the stairs again to the front door.

He saw the weapon by the door, also given to him the same day as the uniform, just in case. Matthew took it in his hands and shook as he brought it closer to him. It was a weapon that took _lives_. He hoped he needn't use it – he was only going to talk to his brother after all… right?

Matthew headed out the open front door but was held back by something tugging on his pant leg which was followed by a small whimper. With a glance down, Matthew saw Kumajirou.

"I have to go, Kumadoremon. Maybe… Maybe I can ask Alfred to stop fighting. Stop making the Canadians, _my_ people, fight." Matthew looked away from the accusing eyes of Kumajirou, the eyes that almost said '_it wouldn't make a difference'._

"… I don't know, but…" Matthew continued, unable to bear the silence, "I got to do something… I can't stay here and do nothing when it's my people who are dying…"

Yes, Matthew was tired of doing nothing, tired of watch the smoke engulf the sky and the sounds of battle that shook the earth. He needed to do _something_ and maybe, just maybe, Alfred would listen to him this time. It has been 37 years since _that_ day. Maybe Alfred would have forgiven him for his inability to choose between him and Arthur. Above all, Matthew really did miss his brother and the times before Alfred _needed_ his independence.

"I'm sorry, okay? You have to stay here, Kumayoshi," Matthew felt guilt at having to leave Kumajirou behind. He gently removed the bear's paws from his legs. "I can't bring you with me; it'll be too dangerous for you." As it was for himself.

"Take good care of the house while I am gone, okay?" and Matthew left right after he saw the bear nod. Out of humourless mirth, Matthew muttered "And I will try hard not to get shot…" as he closed the door.

Now with the door between him and his friend of many, many years, Matthew started out to seek out his not-brother.

* * *

Matthew headed out into Canadian lands, following only that _sense_ of Alfred – Matthew was quite certain now that Alfred was heading to York. He cut through forests and towns, hiding when American soldiers were near and then resuming when they left. Matthew rested at the towns he passed and was thankful when the citizens allowed him to stay at their house. Like how can they turn away an adorable child of 15? Many times they would ask _why_ he was fighting when he was so young and sometimes, they would try to keep him in and away from the war.

Then two days later, a Battle was taken place at York, not that Matthew would know. He was a bit 'behind schedule' as sometimes he did indulge the housemates that allowed him sanctuary for a night or two and then the explosion happened. The explosion was felt in the town he was in since it was quite near and Matthew was immediately reminded of what he came out to do. He was comfortable in that house; it was just an old couple with the last name _Williams_. They made him feel _happy_ again, just for the two days he stayed there.

Matthew immediately apologized to them and told them that he needed to go - he needed to see his brother. The couple was confused to how was it possible to have a child in America and then another in Canada but he explained that they were separated years ago (he couldn't say that it was _37_ years as that would've been more strange since Matthew only looked like a youth of 15) and they left it at that. Matthew once again thanked them for their hospitality and then he headed again towards York – to where that nagging feeling of _Alfred_ was.

Matthew quickened his pace when he saw smoke rising from the town of York.

Oh God, York was burning.

Matthew entered the burning city of York, well only the Parliament buildings, some libraries and other miscellaneous buildings were burning but they were burning none the less, strangely unhindered. The American soldiers that were apparently standing guard at the entrance of York let him through without a passing glance and Matthew could've sworn once that one of them even _waved _at him. But that's silly. Matthew continued through the burning town, with the smoke stinging his eyes, ignoring the American soldiers who were so obviously ransacking the town and stealing valuables from the vacant houses and following that _feeling_ of Alfred.

He was stopped when one of the soldiers paused in his looting to greet Matthew amicably.

"Hey there Jones!" he slapped his back heartily, "What are you doing here? I thought you went to General Dearborn to talk about something or other! I wonder how you know _all_ of those higher up commanders!"

Matthew stuttered incoherently for a moment until he found coherency, "J-Jones? D-do you mean… A-Alfred?" Oh so that's it, all these Americans thought he was _Alfred_ which was why they let him through. Matthew knew they looked _a bit_ alike but didn't know that the resemblance was that… good? Or was that bad?

The soldier gave Matthew a strange look, "Uh yeah, Alfred, that's you."

"O-oh! I'm not Alfred! I'm his b-brother, Matthew," Matthew paused for a moment before adding "… Williams… Matthew Williams." He also wanted a last name too but decided against taking Alfred's since they were not _really _brothers.

The soldier narrowed his eyes at finally realizing that this person he was talking to _wasn't_ his troop mate. Matthew noticed the soldier's change in demeanor.

"I-I just want to talk to A-Alfred, do you know where he is?" Matthew shifted and his large coat opened a bit to reveal some red under and the soldier saw it.

"You're a Canadian aren't you?!" He shouted while aiming his weapon at Matthew and Matthew made a move to run but stopped when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey! What's going on here?"

Both Matthew and the soldier turned to the voice to see a young man of 17 run up. Alfred changed a lot, Matthew noted, he looked taller and more… manlier…? If that is the right word. Not like Matthew who grew only a little.

"A-Alfred!" Matthew shouted, half-relieved to be 'saved' by Alfred but also half-scared to be seeing Alfred even though that was what he came out to do.

Alfred looked a bit shocked to see Matthew standing there but quickly recovered and turned to the American soldier. "What is going on here?" he repeated.

"Well this child, Matthew _Williams _he called himself," Alfred lifted a brow at the surname but the gesture went unnoticed except by Matthew and the soldier continued, "He says he is your brother but he's a Canadian soldier!" Matthew already tightened his coat around him, not wanting other Americans to notice the difference in livery.

Alfred didn't answer for awhile, changing glances between the American soldier and Matthew. And then he spoke, "Yes, he is my brother." The soldier waited for more explanation but Alfred quickly took Matthew's hand and started to lead him away.

"I will talk to him, go back to whatever you were doing." Alfred casually said and the soldier did not say anything in return as he watched the two figures disappear behind a burning building. The soldier shrugged and decided to join his other army mates in their looting.

When Alfred and Matthew were out of sight and other of hearing, Alfred let go of Matthew's hand and turned around to face him.

"What are you doing here?!" Alfred hissed, "You could've gotten shot!"

Matthew widened his eyes at the hostility Alfred directed to him. Okay, he wasn't expecting like a family hug or anything, but maybe at least a bit of neutrality after these many years. Matthew said the only that could come to mind under Alfred's apparent enmity.

"I-I just w-wanted to see you."

Alfred visibly softened after that comment, "You did?" Matthew nodded.

"Well of course you would! So how are you these days, Mattie? You took on the last name _Williams_?"

"Um… Yeah… You took _Jones_?" Matthew fidgeted on the spot, unsure on how to get to the topic he came here for.

"Alfred _F._ Jones to be exact! Because F. Jones is so much awesomer than just plain Jones!" boasted Alfred with a proud smile, "It was required for me to have a last name to join the armies so I choose that." A pause. "… Does that mean you're in the wars now?"

Matthew looked away from Alfred, "Um… no, not really, that is why I came here," Matthew took in a large breath, "Can you p-please stop fighting this war?"

Silence and then, "No."

Matthew looked back Alfred to be met with a furious face. "A-Alfred…?"

"Arthur put you up to this didn't he?"

"Wah-what?! No! I-I---!" Matthew started. _I haven't even seen Arthur for 15 years,_ he wanted to say.

"He told you to come here to tell me to call it all off didn't he?" Alfred growled, "Well he's got another thing coming to him, I won't! How dare he use you to get to me!"

"No Alfred! Arthur had nothing to do with this – it was all my idea! I don't want—"

"You're still on _his_ side after all these years huh?! I should've known!" Alfred started to advance on Matthew and Matthew stepped backwards, keeping his eyes on Alfred.

"N-no! Don't come any closer!" Matthew shouted, not liking the look on Alfred's face. He lifted his weapon and pointed it at Alfred but his hands were shaking so much that it couldn't stay still on one target.

Alfred let out laugh then, still going nearer to Matthew as Matthew backed away. "Do you even _know_ how to use that, Mattie? Have you ever _shot_ a man?" Matthew was afraid to answer.

"I have," said Alfred and with impossible speed he reached Matthew and jammed Matthew's ribs with the butt of his weapon, knocking the wind out of Matthew. Matthew fell over with an 'Ugh!', dropping his weapon on the floor in which Alfred took and threw it a far distance from the two of them.

"There, now you don't have anything _dangerous _waving around," Alfred said smugly and then placed his own weapon down a few paces away, "and just to make you feel better, I'll put away _my_ weapon as well!"

Matthew felt sick, dizzy, from Alfred's blow – he was not used to getting hurt physically – that he didn't notice that Alfred squatted in front of him and was speaking to him.

"You know, my offer still stands."

It took awhile for that sentence to sink in. "What…?"

"37 years ago, I asked you to join me, you can still join me. You _should_ join me, away from that _man_. General Dearborn would just _love_ to see you – he knows about _us_ you know?"

"No," Matthew shook his head if Alfred couldn't hear his voice, "No I can't, I won't."

"WHY?!?!" roared Alfred as he reached down and grabbed him by the shoulders, "WHY NOT?!?! What has that _MAN_ done for you?!! NOTHING! _NOTHING!" _Alfred shook Matthew by his shoulders and Matthew tried hard to fight against the strong grip but losing – Alfred was always the stronger of the two. "I was the one who took care of you when you were younger! ME! Not HIM!"

Matthew felt like a ragdoll in Alfred's grip and he was shook so much that his large coat opened to expose the red uniform underneath. Alfred stopped shaking him then and stared at the uniform for what seemed like an eternity – Matthew wished internally that that eternity will never end because he was scared of what would happen at the end of that time span. Of course, it ended all too soon.

"You…" said Alfred, quiet at first but then raised in volume as more words spouted from his mouth, "You are going to fight against _me?!! _In England's colors nonetheless! Why? WHY?!?! Why are you in _his_ colors!!?"

"No! No! It's not like th---!" Matthew tried to reason with a very angry Alfred but was shoved onto his back so hard that he again had the wind knocked out of him and didn't notice Alfred straddling his thighs and somehow procure a knife from his belt.

At first Matthew didn't realize the ripping sound came from the knife slicing through his uniform until he felt the pain run down his front. Alfred was cutting his uniform but he was not taking care not to cut Matthew as well, or maybe he didn't want to. Matthew gasped as more slashes were made on his clothing and bodice and he tried to struggle or push Alfred away with his hands but his movements either made Alfred slice deeper or slice his hands.

"Why?! WHY?!?! Why are you fighting on _HIS_ SIDE?!?! WHY NOT ON _MINE?!?!" Slash. _"You could've been mine! YOU SHOULD'VE BEEN MINE!!!" _More slashes._ Alfred's eyes were full of anger and madness.

"Alfred! Alfred!" Matthew pleaded, "Please stop! It hurts!! It hurts so much Alfred! Alfred!!"

But Alfred was not listening; rather it seems as if all he could see was red. Red of the uniform and the red of Matthew's blood. And he kept on cutting until all that was left of Matthew's uniform was shreds and they kept screaming at each other, Matthew asking Alfred to stop and Alfred hollering on why Matthew was still with Arthur. Neither listened to the other.

Then, all of sudden, Alfred chucked his knife to the side, seemingly bored of slicing and started to physically _beat_ Matthew with his fists and his feet. Anywhere Alfred could touch, he either punched or kicked it and Matthew let out sounds of pain every time.

"You… could've been mine! MINE!" _Kick. "_England never did anything for you!" _Punch_. "You should be on my side! MINE!!" Somewhere along the way, Alfred managed to elbow Matthew in the face, whether it was on accident or on purpose, Matthew didn't know or frankly, he couldn't care anymore – it hurt all the same. Matthew couldn't even work up the energy to fend off the attacks anymore; it hurt too much to move and took even more energy.

He felt tired, dizzy, probably from blood loss and God knows how many blood vessels Alfred had burst and bruises forming, and how many more bones were broken. Matthew kept mumbling for Alfred to stop, at how much pain he was in but Alfred wasn't listening. Alfred was too much in rage to think or hear anything else. Matthew wondered why none of the American soldiers were coming, he wasn't making quiet noises, rather it was quite loud and echoing around the small place they were at behind the burning building. Or maybe, they figured this was the rightful _punishment_ for a Canadian soldier, never mind how young they are and just ignored the cries of pain and pleas.

When Matthew ceased fighting against the blows, a few moments later Alfred grabbed Matthew by his throat and lifted him up into the air. Matthew, now cut off of air supply, started to struggle again, clawing at the hand which held him up and depriving him of precious air.

"Al-Alfred!! I, I c-can't bre-athe!! I can't – breathe!! A-Al-fred!!" Matthew managed to choke out and at first Alfred tightened his grip on Matthew's neck, as if contemplating on snapping it – it would be easy for Alfred and his strength – but then he loosened it and then hurled Matthew onto the ground. Matthew started to cough violently, sucking in air. Matthew coughed out blood, maybe from internal damage and then sat there facing the ground, heaving. Oh he felt so sick and lethargic.

Then Alfred spoke suddenly, as if not noticing the wreck that was Matthew.

"Do you want to know _why_ I declared war on England? Do you?!"

Matthew didn't answer but Alfred continued anyways.

"Because of _HIS_ war against France, he's still trying to control me! ME!" Although Matthew couldn't see it, Alfred was pacing back and forth in front of Matthew. "Hah! Even after my Independence, he's still a pain in the ass!"

"But… But…" Matthew tried to shout out but only managed a whisper, "Canada had nothing… to do with that! Why… Why are you making them – me – fight?! We… had nothing to do with that…" Matthew's voice fell at the last word.

Alfred barked out in laughter. "Nothing? My dear brother, you have _everything_ to do with it. You are England's colony! And the only one I can really get at."

Matthew was about to say something in reply but Alfred continued. "Did you know? I made a deal with France – Francis and his _Napoleon_. Such a shrewd man he is, Napoleon. I was to take over Canada so he could use it as bargaining chip in his war against England and I was happy to oblige."

Matthew felt cold, not cold from neither his blood loss nor the cold that his cut skin was exposed to, he felt cold _from the inside_. This was strangely reminiscent of that time 37 years ago, so strangely reminiscent. Why… Why is it that France is always the one who deals with America which in the end causes America to invade Canada? Just like 37 years ago… Doesn't… Doesn't France – Francis – like Canada – Matthew? Or… Did he not care? Was that all Canada was to France? Just a piece of land to use as a bargaining chip? Matthew felt cold, so very cold, his eyes drooped and suddenly, he also felt very weary.

Francis never did care, did he? For those 229 years that Matthew was with him, Francis didn't not care for him at all – just the land that he represented. Matthew, deep in his own thoughts, did not realize that Alfred was still talking to him.

"… is he now?"

"What?" Matthew looked blearily up at Alfred.

"I said, 'Where is he now?' _Arthur_ that is," Alfred sneered, "He is not even here to _save _you! It's been one year since the beginning of this war and he hasn't come _AT ALL! _Such a kind brother _he _is isn't he?" Alfred gave another victorious laugh and Matthew shivered from his internal cold.

_No! No! Arthur isn't here because he doesn't want to be! He's… Fighting with Francis, that's why he's not here… That's why,_ Matthew berated himself for that small loss of faith in Arthur. Then he thought of the _fifteen_ years that he had not seen Arthur at all. And then the times before that where Arthur refused to look at his face or 'accidently' call him _Alfred_ without knowing. All Matthew was to Arthur was Alfred's replacement. Matthew wanted to laugh sardonically but he daren't in front of his outwardly insane other brother. No one wanted Matthew for just being Matthew, Matthew realized. Well actually no, he realized it long ago; he just didn't want to admit it to himself. Oh God how drained Matthew felt.

"Like I said before," Alfred crouched down in front Matthew and lifted Matthew's face with his fingers so Matthew was looking straight at him and not at the floor.

_No one, except for Alfred_, Matthew thought when he looked into Alfred's eyes.

"You can still come with me; I will forgo that bargain with France if you come with me. That's what you want isn't it? I will love you more than Francis and Arthur ever did."

And then Matthew saw the small insanity in his beloved not brother's eyes.

_Then._ Matthew was uncertain of what Alfred's motives are now.

"No… Never…" breathed Matthew and Alfred's eyes narrowed with fury. Alfred let out a roar and backhanded Matthew across the face and Matthew fell to the floor with a loud cry.

Matthew knew what was going to happen next, "D-don't…"

"Don't what?" Alfred scoffed and Matthew tried bracing himself for it but it hurt all the same as Alfred's foot connected with his ribs. There was a large sound of a crack and Matthew thought, _Oh there goes another one_.

With that kick to his ribs, Matthew was beginning to lose coherency but he still _felt_ it when Alfred was knocked off his feet by _something_ and the sound of his groan a few meters away confirmed it. Matthew opened his eyes, well one of them as the other one refused to open, and his vision swam as he saw something white slowing walking over to Alfred's figure.

_It can't be… "_Ku… Kumajirou…?" No, he can't be here, he should be at the house, Matthew told him it was too dangerous but it was him when Kumajirou turned around to face him. Matthew tried to get up to reach him but his arms were unable to hold him up and he fell to the floor once more. "Wah… What are you … doing here…?"

He tried to get up again but still to no avail. The movements made all his injuries feel as if they were on fire and he let out a small whimper. In the time span that Matthew attempted to get up, Alfred did get up and was making his way back. Every footstep that Matthew could feel rumble on the ground beneath his body was like a footstep closer to Hell.

"Jesus, that surprised me! Didn't know that bear had it in him, Mattie!"

Though Matthew could not see Alfred, or anything for that matter, it took too much energy just keeping his consciousness now, Matthew could hear the derisive tone in Alfred's tone and his own brand of fury reared up inside him. "Don't call me that…" Matthew said quietly.

"What was that, Mattie?"

"Don't call me that!" Matthew screamed out louder and his ribs screamed out their own pain and made him clutch at them. _Yes, don't call me that, it only reminds me of the times before -- the times I cannot have anymore._

Matthew heard a growl from Kumajirou.

"Now why not, Mattie? Aren't I your _favorite _brother?"

"You… You! You-you're burning down York!" York was indeed still burning. Matthew could still smell the smoke and taste the ashes.

"That was not of my doing, my people did that on their own."

_That's a lie, that can't be true_. Matthew took in a long breath just to say so but he was interrupted by Alfred before he even started.

"You know, I should make do on my word and bring you to Dearborn, or maybe even President Madison."

Matthew attempted to move away from where he assumed Alfred was at and heard a growl from Kumajirou.

"You know what? I should take of that stupid bear of yours first." Matthew heard the sound of something being picked up; oh please don't let it be the weapon that Alfred placed down earlier. "Call this revenge for that knockout earlier."

"…No…" was the only thing Matthew managed to utter out before being taken in by the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

* * *

For the next few while, it felt as if he was dreaming, a dream of floating and terror. Well terror at first.

Hands on him, hurting everywhere they touch – Alfred's hands. He bemoaned their touch and tired to push them away but couldn't, it felt as if his hands were lead. He hated dreams like this, so helpless.

Later the dream changed and the hands were no longer hands of terror but instead became hands of comfort. Hands that held him gently, hands that did not hurt him, hands that gave him a sense of _safeness_. The hands were accompanied by a voice, a low voice but not a gruff voice – it was voice that Matthew could listen to forever. He felt young and loved again wrapped in the arms and voice of this dream person.

It has been so long since _anyone_ had held him in their arms and spoke to him so kindly. Not like Alfred who spoke with pride for himself in every word, and not like Arthur who spoke with honour and dignity in his words. Not since Francis who sang lullabies to him when he couldn't sleep or when he just wanted company when he was alone. Oh so long ago. How Matthew missed it – him.

Matthew wanted to see this dream person, would he resemble Francis? Would he resemble Alfred or Arthur? He opened his dream-eyes, well eye – one of them refused to open, how strange in a dream – and looked up at the figure holding him up. It was no one he recognized and yet, he felt so familiar somehow. Matthew had to know who this dream person was.

"…Who…?"

Matthew saw the dream person lower his head to look down on him, the sky above him seemed to be moving or was it the two of them moving – Matthew didn't really care, he wanted to know who this person was. This had to be a dream – no real person would have such lovely hair that shone in the dying sun's rays so beautifully. No one would have such dark eyes and yet have so much kindness in them.

"Shh… It's okay," the dream person said with his soothing voice, so soothing that Matthew's dream-lids fell over his eyes and causing him to lose what the dream person was going to say next.

"It's…o be… right… This time…"

Matthew dreamed again of floating but this time with the soothing presence of the dream person by his side. At some times of the dream, he would get this inexplicable feeling of terror but that dream person would always be there to calm him down. Holding him, or holding his hand and murmuring soft words of comfort into his dream mind and then staying long after the terror left.

Matthew wished never to wake up, to go back to the world where everything hurt, inside and out.

But of course Matthew didn't get his wish, whenever did any of his wishes come true?

* * *

Matthew woke looking at a wooded ceiling. An unfamiliar place. He looked around the room he was apparently in until his eyes fell on a familiar white polar bear.

"Kuma… jirou…?" his throat felt parched and he made a movement to get up so to look for a glass of water but his body felt too heavy and he fell back onto the pillows. "Ow… this hurts a lot…"

Kumajirou moved closer to him and Matthew turned to see him more clearly. "So… I didn't imagine you there after all…" Matthew thought back to… York. He got a shake of the head in reply.

Looking around the unfamiliar room, Matthew asked, "Where… where are we?" Then he remembered could not speak, "Oh right you can't…"

"Kingston."

The sound of another voice inside the room that was not his own was… shocking to say the least. It couldn't have been… "…What…?"

"We're in Kingston, Lieutenant Governor Sheaffe allowed us to stay in this room while you are recovering," Kumajirou's mouth was moving and _human _words were coming out of them. Oh God, Kumajirou _IS_ talking!

"You can… talk…?"

"Yes."

"For how long…?" Could he talk all along or was it recent? How could Matthew ask that question?

Kumajirou gave a shrug and there was a silence.

"So…" Matthew spoke up, unable to stand the silence any longer, "you can talk all along?" And he got no reply in return.

Suddenly, like a feeling that couldn't be kept in, Matthew started to laugh. "You could talk all along…" _Laughter_.

As he laughed, the feelings from before, who knows how many days ago, came rushing back and tears started to flow.

"So… You could talk…" _Sob_. "You could talk…" _More sobs_.

On his back, he placed his arms over his face to somehow stop the tears from leaking more but only managed to sob harder.

Memories of Francis, Arthur, and _Alfred_, all came back with a vengeance.

"… I'm so tired, Kumayoshi, so tired… why –_sob-_ is this all happening…?" He turned on his side and curled into a ball, ignoring the pain that came from his healing ribs and other bones. "Al… Alfred probably hates me now, doesn't he…?"

Yes, he had to hate him. Why else would he… hurt him so badly? Alfred probably didn't hold back at all. If Matthew wasn't a personified Nation/colony/or whatever and had their unnatural ability to heal, Matthew would have probably died.

"H-he wouldn't l-listen to me and, and then he g-got m-mad –_sob-_ and he started to h-hit me and it hurt… hurt so much… I… I didn't understand why –sob- he w-was doing it… It hurt…"

Matthew felt Kumajirou's paw on his hair and he started to stroke it softly. Somehow, it felt a bit like in the dream, but that can't be it, it was only a dream.

"H-he h-hates me… He _hates_ me –_sobs- Il me déteste… C'est pourquoi il le fait… C'est pourquoi_…"

And Matthew cried. Somehow, he wished to be back in the dream, into that peaceful feeling.

"… I want to die… I want to die… What point is there for me being here…?" Truly, there really isn't any point. All Matthew had was pain, so much pain. Matthew cried into his hands.

"No… You cannot die."

With that sentence, a fury rushed back to him, similar to the one he had when Alfred called him 'Mattie', "Why? Why shouldn't I die? No one w-wants me. Francis didn't want me," _he only wanted me for my land but nothing else_. "Alfred didn't want me," _why else would he beat me so bad?_ "I am not even sure if Arthur even wants me!" _If he did, he would be here with me, instead of a recently talking polar bear!_ "I am nothing! There's no one in the _world_ who wants me!" France, America or England!

"I want you."

Matthew turned to look at Kumajirou. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when he couldn't think of anything.

"Even if no one wants you, I would still want you. You cannot die because who will take care of me? Who will feed me? Who will love me?"

With every sentence Kumajirou spoke, Matthew felt as if a weight was lifted off him. A small brush of his paw came across his face, unlike the backhand from Alfred.

"To whom shall I love?"

Oh. Kind, kind Kumajirou. Tears fell from his eyes again, though not from sadness nor from anger – it was from happiness. Matthew tenderly pulled Kumajirou into a hug. "Yes… That's t-true isn't it? You've been with me longer than a-any of them even though you didn't need to…"

How could he have missed it? Kumajirou wasn't _just _a talking polar bear. He was – is – his best friend of all time. Matthew's first memory was of that polar bear. The polar bear that was there when they both found Francis, and was there when Francis gave him away to Arthur. He was there during the time when he entered the new household and Arthur was not there to comfort him nor bother with him. He was there when Alfred decided to befriend him and was there when Alfred decided to break it all off. And he was here right now when none of them are.

"Yes… you'll be with me no matter what right…?" Matthew spoke softly into Kumajirou's soft fur.

Matthew heard a quiet 'yes' from Kumajirou and felt him hug him back and a smile crept onto his face.

"Yes… Yes you would…" Matthew fell asleep with Kumajirou in his arms.

* * *

**_Notes:_**

Um yes, another Extra! This time from Matthew's point of view (sortof - third person, limited omniscent in 'English' terms). Don't mind the many errors you might find, I didn't really double check this.

So many things on this, first off: DOESN'T ALFRED SEEM CRAZEH?!?! Tehee, no I quite adore Alfred but it's so easy to do slightlyCrazeh!America.

Secondly, yeah. I truly do not understand FRCan pairings. Like FOR REALZ. I mean I'm all Canadian and stuff (though I live on the West Coast) and with my [small] knowledge of history, I find that there is REALLY nothing linking France to Canada besides the original colonization and then throwing it onto England, allowing keeping of language and religion and blah blah blah. But if you truly look BEYOND that, really, there's NOTHING. I mean yeah, ironically, America has more "connections" to France than Canada and somehow those "connections" always end up with America invading Canada. Well like yeah for American Revolution and I think I read somewhere that America DID make a deal with Napoleon in 1812 to capture Canada to use as a bargining chip in the wars and even if there wasn't a deal - inadvertently, because of France's war with England, America would invade Canada anyways. So Franada makes no sense to me at all. I mean some of you might say that those 229 years Canada was with France can be like, yeah, but I will go and say that Canada was a child then and that's like pedophilia because in the mangastrips or what, England introduces Canada to America as children which means France only had Canada as a child. I don't know, to me I find Francis better as a father figure or something of the sort rather than a romantic partner but to each their own I guess! But hey, don't listen to me, I live in _British_ Columbia and I epic fail at history (God knows why I am doing this). Maybe there is something I am missing hum?

I talk too much. Anyways, before I like go and say my oversaid "Till next chapter!", I want to thank you all of you reviewers and your ideas on what to do next since last chapter was as far as I thought when I started out on this story. I think I have figured out the route on how the story will be taking and I know how to end it too! But that's like WAY in the future hum?

**BlueStar123 - **Thank you so much for le Fanart! IT'S SO FULL OF EPIC WIN! *loffs it so much* And Kumajirou looks so ADORABLE in it!

And now, till next chapter! Which will also be another extra - I wanted to put it in this chapter but I didn't realize that it would be _THIS_ long. So um yeah!

Oh and yes, I have read that Human!Kumajirou/Canada doujinshi - actually, that doujinshi came out sometime LATER when I already had the idea of Human!Kumajirou so I just laughed at the doujin XD. Was very cute but I was sad that the only "name" Canada mistakes Kumajirou's name was just "Kumayoshi" and not a mix of others because there was this one strip (baseball one with fake Italy) where everytime Canada said Kumajirou's name, it was a different one each time XD. Oh the hilariousness.


	13. Extra: That Which Was Forgotten

**_Side notes:_**

Just curious, but did anyone notice that _small_ but important mistake that I made in chapter 10 (which is under #11) where I put "1815" instead of "1812" when Alfred declared war? It was just funny that it took me 10 days to notice it and no one told me XD.

On another point, a few of you told me that you were wondering about that Human!Kumajirou/Canada doujinshi and wanted a link to it. The doujinshi is called "Kumajirou-san to Boku" and you can get at the aarinfantasy website:

http:// aarinfantasy. com/ forum/ f107/ t120812-hetalia-kumajirou-san-boku. html#post2878810 (Remove _all_ the spaces)

but you need to be at least 16 years old to sign up on the site so just in case you can't sign up, I'll put one of the download links here (I take no credit for it):

http:// www. mediafire. com/ ?ewajj0vzkp2 (again remove the spaces)

The links SHOULD work, I've tried them both so if it's not working for you, please check you removed ALL the spaces and nothing else of the link XD.

* * *

**Through my Eyes – Extra**

**Alfred – That which was forgotten**

Alfred clawed at his face, trying to get the dirt and grime out of his eyes. His eyes burned, tears ran free trying to wash away the filth, and his eyes hurt every time he blinked or opened them. Alfred cursed that polar bear with every foul word and phrase he knew and did not see when the bear changed and ran away with Matthew. He cursed again when he realized he was alone behind the building.

"Damn that stupid bear… I will get Mattie back no matter what!" Alfred muttered under his breath as he groped on the floor for his dropped weapon on the floor with his eyes still closed due to the dirt still in them. When the weapon was in his hands again, Alfred got up and was able to open his eyes with little pain. He set off to look for Matthew but somehow managed to trip over his own feet, maybe because he moved with too much haste and didn't watch where he was putting his feet or whatever, and fell flat on his face.

"Oof!"

Then suddenly, clarity came to him. It dreadfully came to him, through his haze of minor pains on his hands for catching his fall and his eyes for what the bear did to him. It came through his brief moment of madness.

Alfred slowly scanned the area around himself and saw the carnage that lay there. Red, there was red everywhere. He trembled when he moved closer to a piece of red and when he picked it up he saw the redon _his hands_. It was Matthew's blood. _Matthew's __**blood**_.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…"

No, no he didn't. He didn't—couldn't—shouldn't. Oh but he did. He so terribly did. He stared at his bloodied hands as if he had never seen them before and they shook badly. Alfred wanted to deny that it all happened – that he didn't do the things that the evidence around him proves to the contrary – but he couldn't.

He could remember everything that he had done to that poor, defenseless and inexperienced child. The child that didn't fight back when every slash, blow or kick fell upon him. He remembered it clearly and it ate at him.

No, it wasn't supposed to turn out that way. Alfred wasn't supposed to do that – he was angry, very angry, at Matthew for still siding with Arthur after 38 years, and with Arthur for somehow managing to keep Matthew on his side. Why was that? Why didn't Mattie – wait Matthew, he told him not to call him that Alfred remembered – come over to his side? It was true, Alfred would love him more than Arthur. Yes he would. Why couldn't Matthew see that?

Then he saw the red uniform on Matthew and he just snapped. It was almost like an admission against _him,_ Alfred! That Matthew was finally and completely on Arthur's side and is now _fighting _against _him_ when before only Matthew would watch from the sidelines! It was wrong, completely wrong! _Matthew was not supposed to fight against him!_ And when that thought crossed his mind, common sense left him and all he could think about was to get Matthew back, by force or otherwise. It seems that Alfred had tried by brutality but he didn't mean it.

He didn't mean it!

Oh Gods, how? How could he have done it? How could he have ignored Matthew's cries of pain and his pleas for him to stop? How could his hands, his body, do that to that child? That child who was so full of innocence?

Gods, _how?!_

Alfred was still staring at his bloodied hands when the other American soldiers finally came after hearing his exclamation of having dirt thrown in his face but Alfred did not acknowledge or see them. All he saw was his hands, red with Matthew's blood.

He could feel each slash across Matthew's front as he shredded the offensive clothing off him. He could feel the blows he inflicted on every accessible part of Matthew's body and the bones when they cracked or broke under the force. He remembered that he got angry and disgusted at the face that Matthew wore as he beat him – it was a pathetic face – and so he forcibly shove his elbow into Matthew's face to make it stop, to go away. And he got angrier when Matthew stopped struggling against his attacks and so he grabbed him by the throat to get the thrill of a writhing Matthew again.

God he was insane then. He remembered thinking to himself as Matthew's nails dug into his hand that held him up, '_How easy it would be for me to snap his neck, then no one would have him_.' Small bit of rationality returned when he heard Matthew's voice begging for air. Alfred released him then but his rationality was not to last, next he started to abuse Matthew with words. He was so cruel to that sweet child.

The soldiers were uneasy seeing the condition that Alfred was in. They had heard his angry cry and came rushing in case that Canadian child did something, unlikely as it were, and came to this… scene. They could tell that the blood that splattered his hands, face, and clothing were not his but they dare not think what happened to that Canadian – what Alfred, the _super soldier,_ as it were, did as no one could survive with that much blood loss. Though it wasn't what happened to the Canadian that caused the most troubled feelings among them, it was how Alfred was acting.

He just sat there in the middle of what seems to mess of red clothing shreds with blood accenting here and there with a blank face and staring at his hands as if they were, at any given moment, morph into something horrendous and kill him.

One of the soldiers who were close to Alfred, moved closer to him and called out uncertainly, "Jones… Are you alright…?"

Alfred's hands began to shake visibly and without a moment's notice, he bolted right up, turned to look at the soldiers, who flinched a bit at Alfred's completely mortified face, for a brief moment, and then he ran.

He ran away from that site, he ran away from the soldiers who tried to catch up to him but failed – how could any one of them hope to match a personified nation's ability? – And he tried to run from the memory of what he did to Matthew but that was impossible. Everything that happened was so clear, so freaking _clear_!

Alfred ran in no particular direction. He ignored the branches and twigs that whipped his face, some of them managed to slice his face and the cuts bled. Almost like retribution right? But it didn't compare to what he did to Matthew, no, Alfred believed that nothing the branches did would ever compare. Every time he stumbled and fell, Alfred would get back up and kept going.

He kept running.

And he ran right into river. A moment of shock engulfed him when the land fell away and he fell into the biting cold of the rushing water. He swallowed the water as he tried to gulp for air and for a frantic moment, all he could care about was getting air. When he finally managed to get his balance on the rocks, his head, shoulders and the upper part of his torso were above the water and then the memories came back with a vengeance. The cruel, cruel memories. There was silence – only the sound of Alfred's pants and the rushing river could be heard.

Then, Alfred lifted his head and let out a heartrending wail.

But the one he was crying for was far away and unconscious.

* * *

For the next few days, weeks, months, guilt ate away at Alfred.

He couldn't eat, fight, or sleep. He couldn't do anything, he felt lifeless. He was supposed to protect Matthew; he was supposed to be his _hero _and save him from the evil clutches of the man called Arthur. But it all went wrong, so horribly wrong. All that was left of Alfred was an empty shell.

Alfred could not muster the energy to eat. It was so bad that sometimes, the other American soldiers had to force feed him – they feared that he would waste away if not properly nourished. But unless it was forced fed to him, Alfred couldn't look at food, even the pathetic military rations. He remembered, every time he looked at them, Matthew. Matthew and his cooking when they were younger and no longer needed a housekeeper and Matthew made all the meals when Arthur was not there. He remembered Matthew's happy face whenever they ate together at the table, as if Matthew was just glad that someone was eating with him and did not forget about him like Arthur did sometimes do. And then he remembered Matthew's bruised and tear-streaked face right after and it horrified him.

Alfred dared not to eat.

And Alfred became useless in the battles that followed the Battle of York; he couldn't even hold his weapon for long. He remembered how close he was to killing that bear of Matthew's, that long protector of Matthew's. Alfred remembered the fury he felt when that bear growled at him, keeping Matthew's batter body behind his small body and Alfred thought at how it should've of been _him_ in that position, not that bear, and how wrong it was that he was the one being growled at.

In the battles, when Alfred was able to hold a gun long enough, he couldn't shoot at the opposing side – all of them reminded him about Matthew. And what he did to him. Alfred hesitated too long in one of such battles and got a body full of bullets. The doctors were surprised that Alfred was alive still with so many gunshots when most men died with only one. They were told to not ask questions and just remove all the bullets from Alfred's body. The general came then and succinctly ordered Alfred to 'take a rest' and to not come back into battle until he felt fit to fight again – he was scaring and worrying the other soldiers. Alfred accepted the command and for the next few battles, he stayed at a camp where the injured and miscellaneous American soldiers stayed.

Alfred dared not to fight.

He tried to sleep mostly. But there were nightmares.

Nightmares that came every time he managed to close his eyes and drift off into the dream world – nightmares that always revolved around Matthew. Some, Matthew would look at him with accusing eyes while screaming '_Why?! Why did you do it?! You said you would protect me! Love me! How could you do that to me?!'_ And Alfred's dream self could not reticulate an answer and Matthew kept heaping accusation upon accusation. Other dreams, Alfred relived that day, over and over again. He couldn't take it. Then later he began to dream of a mutilated and abused Matthew, a Matthew that couldn't talk, move, or even breathe. A Matthew that had died from what he did to him. That dream was the one that scared him the most.

Alfred dared not to sleep.

* * *

With lack of nourishment, action, and sleep, Alfred looked like a walking zombie with bags heavy under his eyes and he became irritated and bitter. Soon, he began to blame others for his troubles.

First, he blamed Arthur. If Arthur hadn't somehow managed to keep Matthew wrapped around his little finger so well, if Arthur had given Quebec, Matthew, to him at his Revolution, then it wouldn't have turned at like _that_. If Arthur had never got Matthew from Francis, then Alfred would have never have met him, then he would have never known him!

Then, he started to blame Matthew.

Yes Matthew. Matthew for choosing Arthur. Matthew for being so weak and adorable that he couldn't leave him alone and made Alfred feel like he was compelled to protect him, to keep Matthew at his side forever. Why couldn't Matthew be what Alfred thought he was in the beginning? Needy and annoying as when he clung to Arthur's shoulders when Arthur bought him into the house for the first time. Why couldn't he have been snobbish and boorish like what Alfred thought he was when Matthew didn't ever try to join in the games or eat with them even when Alfred was glad at the times he didn't? Like Matthew was too _good_ to join them. But Alfred learned later that that wasn't it at all.

Alfred learned, after that day of the thunderstorm, that Matthew was a sweet, sweet child. That Matthew didn't join in because he feared that he would be hated for it and that Matthew made every attempt to become less obtrusive so as to not be thrown away just like what Francis did to him. Alfred tried to show that that was silly, that even if Arthur threw him away, Alfred would be there for him, no matter what. But now, he realized, that he became no better than Arthur, Francis. That what he just did was practically the same and he didn't know how to fix it.

And so he grew more angry and bitter at Matthew.

_Yes_, he thought,_ it's all Matthew's fault! I wouldn't have done that if he had chosen me! If he wasn't so weak and easily bullied!_

_It's all Matthew's fault!_

As Alfred stared off into nothingness, ignoring the sounds of battle in the far distance, he thought to himself.

_Yes, everything is Matthew's fault! It wasn't mine! It was better if I had never had met him!_

_**It was better if I had never known Matthew!**_

That night, Alfred dreamed his last dream of Matthew.

* * *

The dream started out like all his other nightmares – him beating on Matthew and Matthew crying so terribly. Then the dream shifted into complete blackness.

At first, Alfred was confused as his dream self looked around and saw nothing but black. Then he saw light and started to walk towards it, unable to take the darkness any longer. When he reached the light, there was a child sitting in the center of the lighted area. A child with a small white polar bear.

It was Matthew, but not the Matthew of today, it was the Matthew of back then. Matthew was playing with the polar bear and coo'ed at it, not noticing that Alfred was near.

Alfred slowly made his way to the child Matthew and called out softly. "Mattie…?" Something within him told him not to call Matthew by _Mattie_ but he didn't know what so he ignored it and called out again, "Mattie?"

Matthew stopped playing and looked up. Then he smiled.

"Hi, Al."

_Al._ Matthew just called him _Al_; he hadn't heard that in such a long while. Happiness blossomed in his chest and Alfred made a move to get closer to Matthew but Matthew shook his head and Alfred stopped, confused at the gesture.

Matthew got up, lifted the bear into his arms and gazed deep into Alfred eyes.

"This is what you wanted, Al," Matthew spoke somberly and then spun around and walked away from Alfred, getting closer to the edge of the lighted area. Alfred wanted to chase after him but he found that was rooted to the spot and he couldn't move.

"Mattie? Mattie?!"

Matthew turned around for one final glance at Alfred's face before he crossed over the threshold that separated light from dark.

"Don't worry," he said, "You'll always be my _hero_." Alfred thought it was strange to hear that word from Matthew's mouth since he had never used it ever in his life but before Alfred could do anything, Matthew stepped over that fine line and disappeared into the darkness.

"Mat—!"

And then Alfred woke up.

* * *

Alfred woke up feeling _refreshed_, more so than the last few days. Like something heavy was lifted off his shoulders. He must've gotten a nice dream but when he tried to recall it, he discovered that he couldn't. Then he tried to remember the last few days and wondered why he felt so morose during those days but he couldn't.

Alfred felt that he was missing something _important_ but he could not recall anything. It worried him but at the same time he could not bring himself to care. He felt _happy_ now, what he forgot must not have been that important if he was _this_ happy.

He looked around him and saw that it was still night time so he figured he could catch some more Z's before proclaiming that he was 'fit to fight again'. Yes, he did not understand why he couldn't do it the past few weeks or so. He still needed to kick England's ass.

As he slowly drifted back into sleep, a small breeze that smelled faintly of maple brushed his nose but he ignored it. Alfred dreamed happy dreams about winning and having England under his feet.

Alfred had forgotten everything about Matthew.

* * *

The soldiers and generals were glad that Alfred returned to normal, if not happier than before. Alfred became a ball of energy, at many times striking a pose here or there while shouting out "I'll be your Hero!" The soldiers all laughed at that but they were glad Alfred was no longer that walking zombie he was for so long.

Alfred entered the battles with gusto and was ecstatic when they won and not any less when they lost. "They got lucky," he would say and then try his best to win the next one. It seems like happiness knows no bounds.

During the battles, Alfred took down many of the Canadians soldiers and at some point, a glint of gold would catch his eye and when he looked over, he would see nothing. Weird. He would stare for long whiles at that point until his attention was grabbed back to the battle he was currently fighting. Many times that glint of gold caught his eye and many times he still found nothing there. Very weird.

Once, when he was "exploring" the woodlands of Canada, he accidently walked too close to a Canadian war camp and was thankful that none of the opposing soldiers noticed him. So he made his way back towards the American camps and while he did, he came across the strangest sight.

At first he didn't even realize it was there until that same gold that had been plaguing him throughout the battles caught his eye and he turned to stare at it and saw… a polar bear. All the way down south here where there was snow _sometimes_. And for a brief moment, he thought he saw a teenager, no older than 15, _talking_ to the bear and the teenager looked so strangely familiar. He looked away for moment, thinking he heard something close but it was only just birds, and when he looked back, he only saw the polar bear. He thought he saw the bear talking.

Was it his imagination? It must be – no one would allow a _fifteen_ year-old join wars. That was still too young. And bears can't talk!

Alfred ignored the sight and went back to his side of the war without any other distraction.

* * *

It was August 24th, 1814 and Alfred and a whole lot of American armies were at Baltimore, waiting for the Canadians. But they never showed up, they were at Washington.

One of the soldiers was the first one to notice it, that the sky above Washington was filling with smoke.

"They're burning it!" one of them shouted, "They're burning down Washington!"

All Alfred and the other many soldiers could do was stare at the sky in absolute horror.

The smoke and probably the fire burned for a whole day and all the Americans could do was _stare_ at it. A lot of them cussed at the sight and Alfred heard one of them say, "They are trying to get back for what was done at York!"

Alfred stared at the soldier who spoke and thought back to the Battle of York that occurred more than a year ago. All he could remember that the Americans and Canadians fought against each other and the Americans came out on the winning side. The Canadians were burning down Washington just because of that? That's kind of petty of them isn't it?

When he thought that, somehow it didn't _feel_ right to him, something else was missing but he didn't know what. It was nagging at him but he couldn't figure out what it was so in the end he just left it at that. That the Canadians burned down the White House, he learned later, because they were petty and bitter for losing at one of their prestigious towns.

Alfred's mind refused to offer up the fact that Americans burned down York and it refused to tell him about what he did to Matthew behind that burning building.

* * *

The war finally ended in a truce. Neither side could keep up this war that seems to always end in a stalemate, and their cash flow were getting short. They had decided to sign a Treaty in Ghent in which Alfred had to attend so he had to cross the seas to get to the United Kingdom of the Netherlands.

Both Alfred and Arthur glared at each other across the room as their peoples signed the treaty. A treaty that only returned everything to _status quo ante bellum _or _the state in which things were before the war_. So pointless but it was required, or needed, real badly.

When the signing was over, Arthur walked right pass Alfred and hissed under his breath, "Matthew will never come to you," before walking out of the room.

_Who?_ Alfred thought and was about to retort some snappy comeback but Arthur was long gone.

Alfred just gaped at the doorway in which Arthur disappeared through and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out who _Matthew_ was.

He no longer remembered who Matthew was – all that was left was that feeling of needing to protect _someone_.

Why?

* * *

_'__I will love you more than Francis and Arthur ever did.'_

_…You __**liar**_.

* * *

**_Notes:_**

Yeah so, Alfred forgot about Matthew after War of 1812! Kindof think Americans sortof did after that too...

Does this chapter make you like or hate Alfred more I wonder? Ahaha XD.

About Burning of Washington, apparently, from reading the reviews and what they said, a few of you Americans had said that some Americans actually believe that the Canadians burned down the White House just for shits and giggles (not in those exact words what you get the point) and conveniently forgot about the burning and ransacking of York. I even read one where an American _history teacher_ refused to acknowledge that fact. So fricken hilarious.

And so I decided to write in that fact in here! Yes I read all the reviews and sometimes, I will actually incorporate some of them into this story! Well if it works swell with the story that is.

Oh oh! And I am 1 review away from 100! Wow, ahaha wasn't expecting to get so much or have so many people read this! Thank you all!

**Full Shadow Alchemist -** That is true that is more professional but I was trying to show the emotion and stuff but I guess I could do it so from now on! I will just have find another way to show emotion! I'm so used to spamming exclaimation marks and question marks XD. Thank you for the CC!


	14. What is Strength?

**Through my Eyes**

**What is strength?**

After the war, Arthur rarely visited but Matthew was fine with that. After the war, Alfred didn't bother with him and Matthew was fine with that also.

Matthew was content with being left alone. Different from before the war, Matthew no longer sat in the room that overlooked the front yard of his house. Matthew no longer waited for them.

He had moved his sitting room to a room that instead overlooked the backyard so that he could gaze at his garden that he so tediously took care of – a hobby he had not lost even after living in that house in the Americas. When the weather was nice and sunny, he would take a book from his study, go outside to the backyard and read under the only maple tree in the yard till the sun went down. If the weather was less than favourable, like it usually was in his lands, he would instead read his books in the sitting room until he tired or fell asleep in the chair he sat in.

Matthew rarely left the house, unless he needed to replenish his stocks of food or he desired a new book to read. When these times appeared, he would let out a long sigh as he stared at his almost empty cupboards or when he finished a new book and then he would give himself a small pep talk as he readied himself to go outside.

"It's okay… There's nothing bad out there… I will just have to go out, get my stuff, and then come back… It won't take long…"

Then when he finished convincing himself that here will be nothing, or _no one_, wishing to inflict harm onto him, he would call my name once (lucky if it was my _actual_ name and not some alternate version of it, not that I minded anyways, I knew he was calling for me) and I would come padding up to him and then he would lift me up into his arms and hold me tight.

Before, I knew that Matthew had held me when he was younger because he was lonely and wanted company and someone who was actually _there_ with him and now, I knew that he held me because I became his barrier against the world. To separate him from everyone else who would come near. Matthew still feared the touch of other humans, people.

Matthew would open the front door with one hand, me in the other, walk warily through the threshold that separated 'house' and 'the outside', close and lock the door behind him, again with one hand, and then slowly, took the steps down one by one and walked grudgingly to the fence that separated 'his yard' from 'the world'. Once he left the sanctity of the small plot of land that he could _legally _call his own (even though technically, all of Lower and Upper Canada was his), he would try to finish his outside chores as quickly as possible with no waste for browsing or carousing around the area for the sights or whatnot.

He would weave around the crowds of people, careful not to brush or accidently bump to any of them. I swear Matthew had mastered the art of dodging people. Matthew would be soft spoken to those shopkeepers when they would talk to him and sometimes, Matthew would only reply with a small nod of his head or mumble something so quiet that only I could hear. The shopkeepers didn't mind and just handed the goods to me since Matthew refused to let go of me and I had my hands free.

Matthew knew he was sight to see with a _live_ polar bear in his arms and holding groceries none the less! So he tried to make himself less obtrusive whether it was always keeping his head down or he would just take roads that rarely anyone else took. When all the outside chores were done and over with, he would immediately head home with no deviations from the one path that would take him straight home.

It was when we were both back inside the house is when Matthew finally let go of me and released a sigh that held most of his tension from going outside. Matthew would then revert back to some semblance of "normal" as he cheerfully took up the groceries to put them away and then pick up that new book he had bought and began reading it in the sitting room.

I could only watch as he detached himself from the rest of the world.

* * *

Even though Matthew had separated himself from the outside world, it didn't make him any less the personification of Lower and Upper Canada and he could still feel their discontent.

It started somewhere in the 1830s, that feeling of discontent. Matthew felt it deep in his chest when it started and he told me so. It was happening in both Lower and Upper Canada. In Lower Canada, though there were both issues with the French and English Canadians against the British colonial government, the main issue was with how the French Canadians felt underrepresented in the roles of colonial governing where most of the leaders were the English speaking population of Lower Canada. In Upper Canada, though it was a lesser issue than Lower Canada's, it was felt nevertheless. The peoples in Upper were dissatisfied with the allocation of land where most of the lands were "Crown Reserves" or for the Anglican Church. Having these reserves lowered the price on neighbouring farmlands and the supporters of other religions found that the preferential treatment of the Anglican Church unfair. All in all, there was discontent and Matthew felt it.

But unlike Alfred, Matthew didn't allow that feeling to overtake him. Forced into "growing up" faster and quickly, Matthew was able to separate himself from his colonized self. And unlike Alfred, Matthew didn't care. Whether these discontents will rise up into rebellions or die off – he truly did not care. All Matthew cared was the walls that surrounded him and that was it.

So when the restlessness in both of the Canadas peaked into the Rebellions of 1837, Matthew, unlike his southern counterpart, did not take up arms and join them. Matthew sat in his sitting room, blissfully unaware of the Battles taken place on his own lands – Battle of Saint-Denis, Saint-Charles, Saint-Eustache, and Beauharnois for Lower Canada and Battle of Montgomery's Tavern and Battle of the Windmill for Upper Canada. Only when that feeling that was plaguing him over the years ended was when Matthew knew that it was over, with the United Kingdom's victory in both. Matthew carried on reading, gardening, cooking, or whatever else he usually does in his home.

It was in the sitting room where Arthur found him a few days after the end of the Rebellions. Arthur, of course, had a key to the house and since Matthew was in the back of the house and immersed in the novel he was reading, he did not hear Arthur open the front door and stomp through the house until the door to the sitting room was slammed open and startled Matthew into dropping his book – which barely missed me who was lying at his feet by the way – onto the floor.

Arthur was panting heavily with anger and Matthew just stared wide-eyed at the livid expression until he finally found his voice.

"Wh-what are you do—"

_SLAP!_

The sound resounded throughout the small room as Matthew's cheek started to redden and he slowly lifted his hand to the cheek that was slapped by the uplifted hand of Arthur's. I growled deep in my throat but stopped when Matthew muttered a small "_It's okay, Kumatare_". Matthew looked up Arthur's still furious face with an absolutely confused face.

"A-Arthur, wh-what is th—"

"HOW _DARE_ YOU RISE REBELLIONS AGAINST ME?!" Arthur roared and caused Matthew to shrink back into the recliner he was currently in, still confused as ever. "Trying to be like _Alfred_ now aren't you?! _I WON'T LET YOU!_"

Matthew, who had nothing to with the rebellions except being the land that it occurred on, tried to splutter out some explanation but at every turn, he was interrupted by more of Arthur's angered retorts.

"B-but I—"

"Don't give me your lousy excuses! Why else would they have done it?! It was all YOUR doing wasn't it?!"

"N-no, it wasn—"

"Just like Alfred! Trying to separate from me! I won't allow it! I won't! You—"

I could tell Matthew did not like how fuming mad Arthur was and so he said the only thing he knew that would calm Arthur down.

"I'm sorry!" Matthew shouted out, though it was not as loud as a normal shout was – Matthew no longer knew how to speak in loud voices since he only needed to speak to me and had not spoken to others in a long time – but it was enough to stop Arthur in his rants. "I'm so sorry! I won't do it again! I didn't mean to!"

Matthew started to ramble out apologies for something that was not his fault at all with his head down. It was an image of complete subservience and I hated it. But it was apparently enough to calm Arthur down. A small silence stretched between the two of them when Matthew finished his string of apologies and then Arthur slowly started to pat Matthew on the head. I could tell Matthew wanted to run away from the hand but he wouldn't because he knew it would be rude to Arthur.

"Yes, that's a good boy," Arthur said with a complete calm and genial tone to his voice, almost like addressing a dog and it sickened me. "You won't do that ever again will you now?"

Matthew fervently shook his head, managing to remove Arthur's hand from his head. "N-no… I won't, ever again…" Matthew still had his head down.

"That's good, Matthew," said Arthur. "But to ensure this won't happen ever again, I am going to unite Upper and Lower Canada into one colony."

Matthew nodded, not caring what happens as long as Arthur was not angry anymore. I somewhat feared that if Arthur asked Matthew to jump off a bridge, he would do it. Thank goodness Arthur wasn't that crazy to ask Matthew to do so.

After another small chat, Arthur turned around and left the house. The house was again as silent as from when before Arthur came in. Matthew leaned down, picked me up to hold me in his arms and into my fur, he let out a breath I did not know he was holding. Matthew just buried his face into my fur, letting small breaths escape at a time, as if he feared that if he breathed too hard that Arthur would come back to yell at him.

For Arthur, Matthew would do anything since Arthur was the only person he had left. It was too sad that Arthur never saw that.

In 1840, the _Union Act_ was passed and Upper and Lower Canada became the United Province of Canada – not that Matthew cared at all.

* * *

Afterwards the rebellions and the _Union Act_, life continued as if nothing had changed for Matthew. He continued to isolate himself from the outside world, stayed inside reading, cooking, cleaning, or whatever and only went outside and over his property line for necessity.

It was the same for Arthur, who only visited, at most, once a year. It was like he was just making sure no more other rebellions would spring up, even though it wasn't Matthew's fault in the first place. Not that Arthur could tell the difference anyways.

And because of Matthew self-isolation, it took awhile for Matthew to learn that America was in a civil war.

* * *

He was, would you believe it, worried. Yes, worried for that bastard who had so thoroughly beaten him up and then put him in an almost comatose state for about a week. Matthew was worried for _Alfred_.

It had been many years since that incident, just about half a century, but to _our_ kind, though technically I am a bit different from Matthew's 'kind', it is almost like it just happened yesterday. But Matthew, being who he is, _forgave_ him. He had long forgave Alfred, probably even just days after the end of the War of 1812 had he forgiven him. And now, Matthew was worried for his not-brother – war was not a pretty thing, civil war even more so.

Matthew heard the news about a week or two since it had begun – the fighting started on April 12, 1861 – when he was forced to go out for groceries and he overheard the book shopkeeper speaking to one of the other customers in the store.

"Yeah so the _Civil war_, that's now happening in America…"

Matthew perked up when he had heard the word "America" and then his brain processed the words "Civil war" right after and then he immediately abandoned the book he was browsing and then turned to the male shopkeeper.

"Civil war…?" he said a bit louder than he usually speaks, though mind you, it wasn't that much of a difference. But apparently it was loud enough for the shopkeeper to hear who stopped chatting to the customer and turned to address Matthew's question.

"Yes America is currently in a Civil War, didn't you know?" he said kindly and in no way mocking Matthew's lack of knowledge of current events. Rather it seemed like that shopkeeper was sort of glad that Matthew was finally willing to talk to him other than 'I-I would like this b-book please' or 'T-thank you'. Matthew shook his head at the question and the shopkeeper excused himself from the conversation with the other customer in the store – the customer didn't looked miffed, he just waved the storekeeper off and smiled at Matthew before going around the store to browse for books – and then started go into a narration on what was currently happening to the south.

"Hm… I guess I should start to when Abraham Lincoln was elected President on November 6th, 1860 and then South Carolina seceded on December 20 of the same year. Soon, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana and Texas followed after."

Matthew chewed his bottom lip, "… Why…?"

"Hm… Well I guess one of the reasons would be slavery."

"One… of the reasons?"

"Yeah, slavery wasn't the _only_ reason that America is in a Civil War, you know? But I guess technically speaking, slavery would be the only one that anyone generally remember."

And it was true. I didn't remember what the other reasons were when he explained it to Matthew – something about cotton I think. But all in all, the main point the shopkeeper tried to pass was that there were many reasons for the Civil war, the slavery was just a tipping point in it all. And then the shopkeeper started to update Matthew on the progress of the Civil War. At this point, North Carolina just seceded from America – making it 11 states now.

Matthew absorbed the new information in and with every word passed, I could see fear rising in his eyes. After the shopkeeper finished, Matthew thanked him graciously, picked up the groceries we had bought earlier and left the store without any purchase of new books. Matthew was heading straight home but I could see how anxious he was.

"What's wrong?" I asked him as he rushed to get home.

A small silence passed as Matthew deftly dodged people and then, "Alfred."

That I already knew but there had to be something else, something he isn't telling me. "What else?"

Again a silence for a long time that I thought he was ignoring the question until we had reached the fence of our house and he finally answered.

"Arthur… If he wanted… Alfred back… This would be a good time to attack right? But Alfred…"

Matthew looked down. We both knew that Alfred never want to come back, ever. If Arthur wanted to take America, Canada would have no choice but to go with it and will be forced to fight with America, again. Matthew didn't want that.

He looked up to the sky again and watched the clouds glide across. "I wonder… Which side is Alfred on – the Union or the Confederacy?"

I wondered too. Though slavery in Canada was abolished in 1834 with the _Slavery Abolition Act_ passed by the British Parliament, it didn't mean that Alfred would agree with it. Maybe Alfred supported slavery?

I wondered too, if Alfred understands now how Matthew felt when Alfred forced him to make a choice between him and Arthur?

And then I wondered about what choice Arthur would make in the American Civil War.

* * *

Matthew went out every day after that, to get news and new developments on the Civil War. He would generally go to the bookstore for news since the shopkeeper was a friendly face to Matthew. Matthew was glad to learn that England decided to be neutral in the American Civil War.

Then, a month after the first hostilities of the American Civil War started, Arthur himself decided to grace his presence upon us.

* * *

Matthew didn't see him coming.

He would have if Matthew's sitting room was in that room that overlooked the front yard but it wasn't and thus, Matthew jumped from his seat in surprise when the door to the sitting room slammed open and Arthur came crashing into the room practically radiating the scent of alcohol. Matthew immediately put his book down and ran over to Arthur's side.

"Arthur? Arthur?!" Matthew, after a small moment of uncertainty, lifted Arthur, whose face was flat on the floor, and turned him over so Arthur's head was resting on his lap. "Are you okay?"

Arthur blinked his eyes blearily until he focused on Matthew's face above him. Then, Arthur shot up so fast, barely missing hitting Matthew's chin with his head, and then turned to envelop Matthew in a large hug.

"I-I'm so sorry!!" he wailed out, tears started to run down his freely. Matthew was completely shocked at the show of _emotion_ from the Englishman but that soon passed and Matthew returned the hug with a small smile on his face. Finally, at last, Arthur was looking at _him_ and not Alfred we had both thought. Matthew was patting Arthur's head in comfort as Arthur continued wailing and sobbing out lines we, myself and Matthew, would thought we would've never heard from the man.

"I-I'm so sorry! I should've been a better brother to you! That way you wouldn't have gone through all this! You wouldn't be so hurt and t-troubled! I'm so s-sorry!"

All the while Arthur was wailing out his apologies, Matthew, I could tell, was very, very happy. Yes, for the time, Arthur was paying attention to _him_! Matthew was replying with small lines of "It's okay, Arthur", "I forgive you", or "I didn't mind" to Arthur's lines. It was a moment of bliss for Matthew until---

"I-I'm so s-sorry, _Alfred_!"

Matthew froze while Arthur kept spitting out more apologies. He and I both realized those apologies were not for _Matthew_, they were for _Alfred_. Yes, that would make more sense wouldn't it? If Alfred never had his Revolution, then Alfred would've lost slavery in the same year that Canada did as well and then America would not have the Civil War. Arthur felt guilty for what is happening in America but never to what he was _doing_ to Matthew.

No, never Matthew.

That's right isn't it? It should've made more sense that the only reason Arthur would show any emotion would be for _Alfred_. I mean, the last time Arthur showed any emotion in front of Matthew was after Alfred got his Independence from England and at that time, Arthur also had arrived piss drunk then. And he didn't remember any of it the next day. So that would mean he would not remember this time as well. History is always repeating. Always repeating.

And Matthew was slowly breaking.

With a small hesitation, Matthew resumed patting head in comfort.

"It's… It's okay… _Iggy_," he said, using Alfred's old pet name for Arthur, whose sobs hitched and he cried harder when he heard that name. "It's okay, I forgive you."

"I'm s-so s-sorry, Alfred! I should've been better to you! I should've been!"

"It's okay… It's fine… You were a good brother, Iggy… You were…"

I could only watch as Matthew was comforting Arthur by pretending to be Alfred. Matthew had grown to the age to when Alfred declared his Independence, anyone half drunk could've easily mistaken them for the other and Matthew had long accepted the fact that he would always be second best compared to Alfred, but it didn't hurt any less.

Matthew lowered his head down and was mumbling his Alfred-assurances to Arthur until the man passed out from drunkenness and exhaustion.

"I forgive you Iggy… I forgive you… I forgive you…"

Was he saying that as Alfred or as himself?

* * *

The next morning, as expected, Arthur remembered nothing of what happened the night before. Neither myself nor Matthew were surprised. Matthew just smiled and handed Arthur a glass of water when he asked what happened– I could tell Matthew half-expected '…Alfred?' to come out of Arthur's mouth just like what Arthur did the last time this happened but thankfully, Arthur was more coherent or maybe smarter to not make that mistake again. Small blessings I guess.

After that, Arthur stayed over at Matthew's home just like those many years ago and just like those years ago, Arthur would go out late at night to some bar and come home dead drunk. Many times, Arthur would come home spouting apologies to Matthew-mistaken-as-Alfred and Matthew would comfort him in the same way as the first night.

In the daytime, Arthur would stare out the window facing south, sighing all the while, and in the nighttime, he would go out to drink. Matthew would bring Arthur food when he refused to move from the window and then take it away when he was finished. And Matthew would wave goodbye to Arthur when he left at night and then prepare himself to the sobbing fest Arthur would be when he came back. The lucky days were when Arthur didn't go out to drink and Matthew didn't have to spout out lies that he himself was unsure if Alfred _did_ forgive Arthur.

Matthew was breaking down inside with everyday that passed but Matthew could no more throw Arthur out of his house than could he stop loving Arthur, for all his faults and neglect.

Then one day, Matthew revealed his feelings to me.

Like usual, Arthur was out drinking and Matthew was left home like some heroine in some tragic story. He was out in the backyard, tending to his garden, pruning the rose bushes. Matthew never liked pruning the rose bushes because he had to cut off the rosebuds that were barely growing but it needed to be done for the "good" of the rest of the rosebush. I was by his side, like usual.

_Snip. Snip. Snip._ Until suddenly he stopped cutting and just stared at the rosebuds he held in his hand. It was an odd sight really, it was as if he mourned the loss of the rosebuds.

A long silence was stretched out until finally Matthew spoke out.

"I still love him you know?"

It was so sudden that I did not know what to say in reply but Matthew continued before I could anyways.

"Arthur, that is." He was still staring rosebuds in his hands. "I still love him even after… all of this. I can't bring myself to hate him. I don't know why Kumajirou. Why can't I?"

He looked up at me then, the rosebuds fell from his hand and already the making of tears were in his eyes but none of them fell.

"I love him so much but he… he doesn't even see me does he? All he sees is _Alfred_ and I don't know what to do! Why can't I hate him?!"

"Because he's all you have left," I said. It was the irrevocable truth.

Matthew closed his eyes in despair. "Yes… that's true isn't it? He is… But that can't be just it. I… still love Francis for our time together with him and I still love Alfred even after what he did but Arthur… Arthur is different." A pause. "I… Just once… Wanted him to tell me that he loved me too… Yes that's all I wanted… Even it was a lie… Just that he loves _me_ and not _Alfred!"_

The tears finally fell from behind his long pale lashes. "…But I can't have that can I? All he sees is Alfred and not me…"

Not sure of what answer to give him, all I could do was go over to him and snuggle into his body. Matthew took me into his arms and started to weep openly into my fur. I didn't mind that his gardening gloves were staining my fur. Just like what Matthew would do for Arthur, I would do anything for Matthew.

"I-I want to be stronger Kumajirou… Stronger so this wouldn't hurt me anymore… Stronger so maybe Arthur would finally look at _me_… I want to be stronger Kumajirou… _Stronger…_" More silent tears fell.

"But you _are_ strong," I said. Of course he was strong, how could he not be? After all Francis, Alfred did and what Arthur was _still _doing, Matthew took it all in and he didn't become bitter in any way. Rather, Matthew was still a kind soul. It takes a lot of strength for that but sadly, no one, not even Matthew himself, could see that.

"No…" Matthew shook his head, "I am not strong… I am not strong at all… I'm so weak Kumajirou… I want to be _free_ from all this… I want…" Matthew never finished the sentence as he just continued to cry and he cried until Arthur came home.

Arthur didn't notice anything was amiss at all as he himself was crying over Alfred, again.

* * *

When the American Civil War finally ended 4 years later in 1865, Arthur broke out in happy smiles, so did Matthew. And then Arthur went out for a drink but this time in happiness and left Matthew at home alone again.

Matthew was pacing in the living room while muttering, "I can do this… Alfred got over his problem… So could I… I could do this…" I was uncertain what he was muttering about but I could see that needed time to himself to bring himself confidence with whatever he was planning to do.

When Arthur came home, this time, thankfully, not as drunk as he usually was when he comes home from his bar outings, and was still coherent enough to understand what Matthew said to him.

"I-I want to be my own country!"

With that exclamation from Matthew, Arthur stopped humming, which was what he was doing when he entered the house, and just stared at Matthew blankly.

A few minutes passed just like that and Matthew started shifting back and forth on his legs until Arthur finally said something after what felt like an eternity.

"…What…?"

Matthew, with all his confidence mostly dissolved from the long pause, spoke again. "Um… well I w-want to be my o-own country… With m-my own g-government, parliament and-and stuff…" Matthew felt he could not continue under the glare of Arthur so he trailed off near the end, his head down.

Again, another long pause until Arthur spoke up this time. "And… if I say 'no', what would you do? Would you raise a rebellion just like Alfred? Would you fight against _**me**__?_"

Matthew lifted and shook his head vehemently, "N-no! I-if you d-don't want me t-to, then I won't! I will s-stay your c-colony… I…" Matthew looked down again, like a child who did something wrong. "I just wanted to be… _stronger,"_ he said the last word in an almost whisper.

"I will still listen to you… I will be loyal still I swear… I just want… I just want…" Matthew was still mumbling and I turned to watch Arthur. His face was at first furious, then confusion, then softened to some indescribable emotion that I was not used to seeing on Arthur's face and then finally to defeat.

Arthur let out a large sigh, which stopped Matthew in his mumblings, and then he said quietly, "Fine…"

Matthew looked at up Arthur in complete shock, obviously not expecting that answer from Arthur and then ran up to hug Arthur, forgetting momentarily about his small fear of other human's touch though I guess it's a different story if Matthew was the one who initiates it. "_Merci! Merci! Merci beaucoup! Je t'aime!" _And then he remembered that Arthur did not like it when Matthew spoke French so he reverted back to speaking English, "Thank you Arthur! Thank you!"

Arthur coughed in embarrassment, obviously not used to Matthew's outright display of happiness – I myself do not remember the last time Matthew had shown unadulterated happiness, they were always tinged with a bit of sadness. "Well, you do know that you will still be under my control and I will still be your priority above all right?" Even though Arthur would probably always be Matthew's first priority no matter what.

"_Oui! O—_ I mean yes! I understand! Thank you so much Arthur! Thank you!" Matthew nodded his head with a smile plastered on his face, probably still in disbelief that Arthur actually _agreed_ when he was so against Alfred's independence. I would've said that's because Arthur didn't care _that much_ for Matthew but I wouldn't wish to rain on Matthew's parade so I kept quiet.

Detaching himself from Matthew's embrace, Arthur coughed again into his hand. "Um well, I will be going out again. I will be back later…" And with that, Arthur swiftly turned around and exited the door he just came in from, leaving an ecstatic 17-year old looking youth behind.

Matthew did not notice the state Arthur was in when he left, he just picked me up, swung me around and started to dance a happy dance while saying, "He said yes! He said yes Kumatero! He said yes!"

If one did not know what Arthur had just said yes to, it would seem like Matthew just got an accepted confession from his long-time admiree. Matthew looked blissfully pleased.

"I am going to be a country!"

On July 1, 1867, two years after the end of the American Civil War, the _British North America Act_ was passed and with Ontario, Quebec, (which were parts of the Province of Canada) New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia, the _Dominion of Canada_ was created.

Are you free now?

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_**

Um so sorry for like the long long update and stuff! Kindof lost my "groove" for a long while and plus with this fanfic, I kindof require to "research" some info and Saloe + research isn't a pretty thing so I kept putting it off. Updates will still be kindof like this so forgive me ahead of time!

Anyways, ISN'T THIS FUNNY?! In the last few chapters I make you HATE Alfred and now I am making you hate Arthur! Not intentional really but somehow the story works hum? And I still find it hilarious that I abhor USUK but I keep putting SNIPPETS of it in this!?!?! Like really! But again,it works with the story. I kindof adore UKCan too and onesided Canada to England is so sad. I swears, UKCan makes more sense than USUK and cuter too! But no--! No one apparently sees it! *sigh* Life sucks.

Also, about the American Civil War, might be some stuff off and I wonder if any Americans actually know the _other_ reasons for the American Civil War because I do remember there being some (something about cotton I think like what I said up there) but it HAS been like 5 years since learning about it. Yes, we Canadians are forced to learn about America's history in High School though ironically, the only time I had A's in Social Studies was when we were learning American history - how weird is that? I wonder if Americans are forced to learn about Canada's history... I doubt it since our history isn't so... colourful as America's XD.

**About the last chapter:** I am sorry if I made the last chapter (Extra:That which was Forgotten) confusing, I kindof thought it was self explanatory but I guess not. The dream Alfred had was his mind's way of discarding all his memories of Matthew,and that "hero" comment was what his mind summed up what he was to Matthew and it carried over into his real life. And the "glints of gold" Alfred kept seeing was actually Matthew's hair but when he looked over, his mind refused to '_show'_ him Matthew - thus how Matthew becomes "invisible" to Alfred. There was a line in Chapter 10 that kindof explains this, '_"He treats me as if I was not there," he would say, "he doesn't even look in my direction and even when he does, it seems like he was looking through me. Like he was refusing my existence."_' So yeah, it is possible to forget stuff you don't like (as I sometimes do XD) though I guess not on the same level as what Alfred did but hey, he's a personifed nation. Ignorance _is_ bliss.

Alwell I think that is all~ Thank you for like staying with this story for THIS long! I kindof know how I am going to end this but I gotta get there first~! Till next time, even though I haven't a clue when that will be!


	15. Extra: That Child

**Through my Eyes – Extra**

**Arthur – That child**

Arthur was standing outside his colony's, Canada or more informally known as Matthew, front door and from within he could hear cries of joy from the said colony. Now that he thought back to it, Arthur had never once seen that child once show complete happiness, or happiness to _this _extent. Matthew smiled of course, there was rarely a time that he did not smile – well besides the obvious times of the American Revolution and then that one time where Arthur confronted Matthew about the Rebellions of 1837. But other than that, there was always a smile on Matthew's face but in comparison to _this_ smile he had just witnessed, they all looked relatively… fake…

Arthur shook his head. That can't be it. It has been 102 years and not once had that child smiled with absolute happiness? Alfred, when he was younger and still his colony, had always beamed when he saw him and betrayed nothing less than complete joy. But when Arthur tried to recall how Matthew was whenever he came, he could not remember. All he could remember was Alfred's smiles and display of [now gone] love. A small feeling of _something_ hit his chest and yet he could not place that _feeling_. It was something that he had felt whenever he was around the Canadian and yet he could not place it.

And like always, he would brush that _feeling_ away and continue on with whatever he was doing but this time, after being plagued with it for the longest time, he decided to at least try to figure out what that _feeling_ was.

Though it was April, being this up north, the weather was still very cold, just like that time when he first laid his eyes on the child named "_Matthieu"_ 102 years ago…

* * *

It was in February, some days after the signing of the _Treaty of Paris_ that, only with other conditions, the land of Quebec was to come under his care, and with it, only between the nation persons, that child. He stood in some large stretch of land, between the Thirteen Colonies and Quebec, waiting for Francis and the child that was _this_ land. On the grass, there were small dustings of snow and his breath was visible – it was cold.

To be honest, Arthur did not care which lands he got from that French man as long as it was his, it did not matter what – Arthur already had so many other colonies. So when he had to choose, he showed the list of "candidate" lands to Alfred and asked him which one he would like. All Alfred did was stared at the list and having not really learned his letters properly yet, quickly looked up at Arthur and asked "which one is the closest to me?"

"Quebec," he answered.

"Then I want Quebec!" cheerfully grinned Alfred and then he skipped off to find something else interesting to do.

Arthur shrugged after taking another short glance at the list – so that was that. Quebec it is.

So here he stood, in a land so cold that he should've bought an extra coat… or two and his patience was running out. Arthur was grumbling to himself as he scanned the near-empty landscape – that French man better not back out on his word!

Arthur turned around abruptly when he hear snow crunching, faint as it was since there was still so little but he heard it none the less.

"About time you blo- " the words died on his lips as he saw the small form trailing after the Frenchman. He looked just like Alfred! But that can't be him – Alfred is still down south and Arthur still needed to visit the boy. Thinking about Alfred reminded him that he needed to go back to him.

"Hurry up you wine bastard!" he growled, finally recovering from the shock of seeing a 'second Alfred', though if he looked closer, he could see small differences – the hair was more pale in colour, wavier and longer, as well as the fact that that child kept looking at him shyly from behind Francis' legs while Alfred would've faced any stranger with gusto. And again he was reminded about Alfred. "I don't bloody have all day! I need to get back to Alfred so quickly give me that child!"

"Calm down you _rosbif!" _Francis spoke and Arthur twitched at the horribly accented English – another reason to hate the French bastard, "At least let me say good bye to _Matthieu!_"

Arthur scoffed and turned away but out of the corner of his eye he watched the exchange between that child and France.

France went down to hug the child. The child was the first to speak. He spoke in French, a language that England never bothered to learn, so Arthur did not know what was being spoken but he could hear the uneasiness within each word.

Francis gave a soft reply to which that child started to speak back in rapid French, fear lacing in every word. Then Francis picked up the child and looked at Arthur and Arthur quickly looked away, pretending he didn't see that small exchange at all.

"Here, take him, I'm done."

"Well about time!" he snorted back and walked up to take the child away – he really needed to get back to Alfred. But tried as he might, the child refused to be held by him and was struggling with all his might.

The child was wailing in French and then he started to cry. Arthur felt that first feeling of _something_ but it was immediately brushed aside when Arthur got hit by the flailing limbs.

"Dammit, you bloody prat! Calm that child down!" Arthur backed away, rubbing his sore face.

Francis sighed and then spoke the child's name sternly which caused the child to stop wailing. More French and the child spoke back in reply, sniffing all the while. A few more words from the Frenchman before the man placed a soft kiss on the child's forehead and then he turned again to face Arthur.

"Here, take him, it should be okay now."

Arthur grumbled under his breath and then warily took the child out of Francis' arms but the child refused to let go of the blue cloth of the Frenchman's. Francis said a few last words and it felt like time stopped until finally the child let go and without looking back, Arthur quickly turned away and carried him off, ignoring the way the child started to sob softly into his shoulder. Arthur was a bit… surprised at the small polar bear that was following them but ignored it in favour of getting back south to Alfred.

That was Arthur's first memory of him.

* * *

When Arthur finally reached the house in which Alfred lived as well, he immediately went to the new room he had prepared for the child, ignoring Alfred and his many questions – he had heard that small tone of annoyance and maybe… Jealousy? Alfred threw at the new child but he ignored it in favour of putting the crying child down on the bed.

Arthur was never good with crying children and didn't want to leave the child without saying _something_ even though that child might've not known what words he was speaking since, from what he's seen, the child only spoke French.

"Is there anything you want… er… Matthew?" Arthur guessed at the name, not quite sure if it was really his name.

Some short sniffles and Arthur was not expecting an answer but the child looked up with a tear streaked face after awhile and said, "_Je… Je veux revenir __à mon frère Francis…"_

The only word Arthur got out of that sentence was the name _Francis_. He sighed and sat down on the bed next to the child. "I don't know what you have just said but I am going to assume it has something to do with that frog."

Just thinking about that man made his insides coil with anger and so he continued on, completely sure that the child would not understand him anyways – after all, Alfred knew no other language than English and thus it would make sense that this child would not know English since he was raised by the French.

It wasn't until he looked over at the child again that he knew something was wrong. The child had newly formed tears in his eyes and Arthur wondered if even if the child did not know what he was saying, he must've caught the gist of it within his tone and thus he stopped his ranting. Still, that small feeling of _something_ came back when he saw the child trying to hold back his tears.

Again ignoring it, Arthur patted the child on the head and left the room, not before pausing before the door when he heard the child started to sniffle. "Er… I will get you when it's time for dinner all right?" And then he left before he could hear and answer since the child probably did not know what was being said and anyways, Arthur did not want to hear a tear stained answer.

He went back downstairs to properly greet the cheerful Alfred – a great contrast to the child in the room and that feeling of _something_ easily forgotten.

* * *

Arthur came back to check on the child, to call him for dinner, but the child refused to leave the room, opting to cry under the covers instead. He did not feel like forcing the child to eat if he did not want to and nation persons can last without food if need be – surely the child would know that too after living for so long –and thus left the child alone. Arthur was used to this, every time a colony/nation/or whatever they were was taken away from their founder, they would either kick up a fuss or dwell on sorrows – in the end they would always come around. Arthur would wait until this child did so too.

Even though that was the reason he gave himself for not bothering with the child much, there was another one – one he would never admit to himself. Every time Arthur checked on the child, that feeling of _something_ would always come back and it made him uncomfortable being unable to place it as well as not being able to _get rid of it_. And so he checked on the child less and less, just to avoid that feeling of_ something_. It was getting annoying really but when he played with Alfred or do work that took all of his thoughts and time, the feeling will be forgotten and just for that moment, it felt like some weight was lifted off of him.

And so he played with Alfred more, basking in his cheerfulness rather than the sorrows of that child.

Then when the child finally 'came around', he was in the study working when he heard the door creak open. Not expecting the child and thus it would only be Alfred, Arthur spoke without looking behind him.

"Alfred, what did I tell you about coming into the study while I am working?"

He got French words in reply, spoken in a soft, shy voice that was so unlike Alfred's, "_Je… je ne suis pas Alfred…_"

Confused, Arthur turned around and was faced with a child halfway into the room with the small polar bear in one of his hands. Had he had the time to not be confused, he would've told himself that this was a cuteness that was different from Alfred's – Alfred never did pull off 'cute' well anyways, he was too loud and rambunctious for 'cute'.

"Oh it's…" Arthur tried to remember his name but then he was not _officially_ told what's that child's name is and he felt not like guessing so he went for a safe answer. "…you…"

The child said a French word in confirmation, not in any way annoyed that Arthur did not say his name.

"So… Are you all right now?" he asked again not expecting an answer for his question, thankful that that phase was over and he did not have to deal with that _feeling_ again.

But he was shocked when he got the same French word of confirmation and then a stream of French words as if he was actually _conversing_ with him. But that can't be, he doesn't, shouldn't understand English.

"I'm sorry but I didn't get _any_ of that. Can you speak in English?" Arthur hoped he couldn't, if he did then he knew what he said that first day, even though he only said it out of frustration.

The child shook his head and England was relieved. For like a second. He just answered the question! Arthur was internally panicking but he had to ask the question to be sure.

"But you can understand what I am saying?"

He got a nod in return and that feeling came back full blast. He knew, he understood! But that can't be! Alfred doesn't know or understand French, why should this child know English?

Even though England was panicking inside, it did not show on his face – he had been living for centuries and being a nation person, he had learn to hide his emotions lest they be played on by other nation persons. He leaned back onto his chair and tried to reason to himself, "Well that is weird, but then again, Alfred could both understand and talk to me when _we_ first met so it must be particular to 'our' kind…" but Alfred doesn't know two languages. Why is this child so different?

Arthur again brushed that annoying _feeling_ away, and dealt with other 'more important' things, like formally introducing himself to the child and finally learning the child's name.

After hearing the _French_ version of the name, England quickly changed it to the _English_ version, not wanting to be reminded of that French bastard nor of that stupid mistake he had made in the beginning. If he had known, he would have not said it out loud, well in front of the child at least. But what was done was done, he couldn't change things and so it was better to just forget it happened and try to make things better from now on.

When he was telling the child, Matthew his name is now, about the lessons he had to go through, though it would be possibly simpler since the child _understood_ English – not like the other colonies he had to teach to and almost abysmally failing at that too, until he heard the sound of something crashing coming from downstairs.

Somewhat thankful for the interruption, Arthur patted Matthew on the head and then quickly left to scold Alfred. He was eager to leave that child behind - him and that feeling that always seemingly accompanies him.

Arthur really hated that feeling.

* * *

At first, Arthur would try to treat the both of them, Alfred and Matthew, the same but at every turn, Alfred pull him away from Matthew one way or another. Let it be actually physically pulling him away, or breaking something to catch his attention.

Arthur never knew that Alfred would be a jealous child but then again, it used to be only him and himself over in the 'New World' before Matthew came along. Arthur would scold Alfred and then return back to Matthew to watching him pore over the papers and books that Arthur told him to read and learn the letters. A small smile would grace his face when he saw this; this child was unlike Alfred who refused to sit in one place for too long. Then soon after, Alfred would pull him away again.

This happened so many times and he had found out that Matthew did not make a fuss like Alfred. It seemed that he did not mind that Arthur spent more time than him. If he did, he would've spoken out right? All children would speak out if they didn't like something or they wanted something right? It seemed that Matthew was content and wanted nothing and thus Arthur spent more time with Alfred to complacent him. Alfred was always more high maintenance than Matthew.

It surprised him at the rate that Matthew was learning and soon he was able to speak near perfect English, again unlike Alfred with his "goed" and "dided". But then how could he not? Arthur knew where he went whenever Arthur was playing with Alfred, who still refused to allow Matthew to join in the games – really, when will this childish jealously end? Matthew would go into the library and read and then a small feeling of _something _would flare up again but it was forgotten once he got really involved with the game he was playing with Alfred.

When it was time for dinner and Matthew was still in the library reading, Arthur had wanted to go and call him for dinner but was stopped by Alfred who said, "You shouldn't bother Matthew! He told me that he didn't like being stopped when reading! He will come down when he's hungry!" Arthur didn't know that Alfred had never spoken to Matthew and that he was lying through his teeth and thus agreed and made sure to make extras for Matthew for whenever he decided to come down. Arthur did not see that sometimes, Alfred would eat Matthew's share.

With that in mind, he would sometimes leave without saying 'goodbye' to the child for he did not want to interrupt the child's reading but would always give a surprised look to the child when he did come down to see him off. He must've disrupted his reading and again that small feeling of _something_ came again.

Arthur knew that Alfred would always need to be chided and pampered before he left but Matthew would need no such thing and so Alfred was the only one who got hugged and reassured – had Matthew came up to him with arms wide open, Arthur would hug him too but he never did and so Arthur didn't hug him. Anyways, Matthew had that polar bear of his.

Arthur was completely surprised when one day when he came back from travelling elsewhere – he had other colonies after all – and he came back to a house in which Alfred was _playing_ with Matthew! Had he finally gotten over that absurd jealousy?

It had seemed so when Alfred began to allow Matthew join in the games and strangely now, called Matthew from the library whenever he was still reading in it and they were eating. But already used to dealing with only Alfred, Arthur had developed a bad habit of always leaving Matthew out. Sometimes even forgetting about him. It wasn't intentional but Alfred was always there to remind him so he was thankful for it.

Arthur was glad that finally, Matthew was losing that small inhibition and asking for things, even though it was only in front of Alfred and not him. Matthew seemed to be acting closer to a child of _his _'age' rather than an adult and Arthur was secretly glad of it. It had seemed odd to him that over the years, Alfred was growing faster than Matthew but he thought nothing of it. It was probably something that was not explainable anyways.

Matthew was always the good child, needing no supervision whatsoever but Alfred always needed to be watched over in case he does something stupid and reckless. Arthur had brought clothes over for Alfred because Alfred was always ruining his clothing and his clothing aesthetics were horrendous. Still Arthur was surprised when he saw Matthew with another set of clothing that he did not buy for him – though he was right, Matthew did have good tastes in clothing; must've come from that French bastard.

He had made a handcrafted toy soldier set for Alfred so he would not whine as much when he left or Alfred would be able to stay _out of trouble_ for longer periods of time if he had something to distract himself with. Arthur was unsure what Matthew would like and so he didn't know what to give him. A small feeling of _something _came again when he realized that he didn't know _anything_ about the child _at all_ and he never found the time to as the American Revolution neared.

* * *

It had begun out so small and he wondered where did he go wrong with Alfred?

Every time Arthur had returned to the Americas after travelling overseas, Alfred became more and more bitter and… what's the word? Rebellious? towards him. Only with Matthew did he seem "normal" and he sort of resented both of them for that, even though it was not that child's fault at all.

When he returned one day, he could not find either of them in the house and when he searched, he found Matthew in the backyard surrounded by many different colours of roses. Somehow, it looked like he felt right in there, even though still being in a 12-year old body – it had fit in the way that it had matched his beauty.

And then suddenly, the concept on how plants grew not only with the necessities, water and sunlight, but also with love popped into his head. And, with that idea, he used it to compare Alfred and Matthew. Alfred who grew enormously while it seemed like Matthew was stunted in growth. It couldn't be that he loved Alfred more, could it? No, he loved them both equally!

He shook the thought out of his mind as another bout of _something_ hit him, harder than ever, and asked the child where Alfred was. Matthew told him that he was out, like always, and somehow quickly gave into the thought that it was somewhat his fault.

Arthur reassured him that it was not his fault and asked him if they could both wait inside the house for Alfred. Matthew agreed and then Arthur asked if the child wanted a gardener for his roses and Matthew agreed once again. Somehow, Arthur did not want Matthew to be near flowers lest analogies start to come up again and that feeling of _something_ with it.

* * *

When was it, he wondered, that he stopped looking in Matthew eyes?

For some reason, every time he looked into that child's eyes, that feeling of _something_ would never be far behind and he hated, _hated_ that feeling and not knowing what that _something_ is. And then somewhere along the way, he stopped looking in those violet-blue eyes and looked at the top of his head or his mouth – anywhere but his eyes – instead. Because, if the mouth was smiling, that means that the child was happy, right?

Sometimes, Arthur didn't, couldn't even look at that child.

Like when he took him away from the house on the day of the Boston Massacre, or the days, weeks, months following that day until the beginning of the American Revolution. Then, Arthur was busy down south trying to make Alfred come to his senses, for Alfred to come back and end this pointless Revolution crap. Arthur didn't return to the house in Quebec during all those 8 years of war and even after the signing of the Treaty, he did not remember ever _going_ to that house.

He was, as the term goes, piss drunk but somehow his body led him to that child's house even after not returning to the house for 8 years. He did not remember the door opening, he did not remember falling over, nor remember landing on that child. He did not remember wailing for his loss of Alfred and did not remember as the child called for that bear of his to get a blanket. He did not remember as the child sang above his head, a _French_ lullaby at that, and did not remember the moment the child's voice faltered and the child started to cry.

He remembered nothing.

He only remembered some faint comfort, like the small memories before the Revolution and the times he had with Alfred before he turned against him.

He did not remember that Matthew was the one holding him now.

Arthur had awoke with a throbbing headache and with a face over his. He was still in the vestiges of the dream he was having of the old days and thought it was Alfred. He voiced his uncertainty only to see a small smile and hear the words _"I'm sorry but I am not Alfred, I am Matthew"_ come out of that small mouth. Arthur started fully awake at those words and wondered how and when he got to that child's house.

Matthew, that kind child, was always so forgiving.

He forgave Arthur for him for ignoring him in the past in favour of his brother and was willing to try again. He forgave Arthur whenever he came home drunk and awoke with Alfred's name on his lips and not his. Matthew forgave Arthur even when Arthur could not bear to even _be_ around him anymore and started to leave the house more and more often.

Though the child was different from Alfred in many ways and the house they were in was different from the one in the Americas, it still reminded Arthur of what he lost. Had Arthur paid more attention to Matthew and saw the differences between him and Alfred, maybe he could've escaped that sad feeling of nostalgia and actually be _happier_ but he didn't. He dwelled on his losses and continued to ignore Matthew, out of habit and out of moroseness. Being so close to the Americas and Alfred and yet cannot even go closer reinforced his thoughts and habits.

When the wars with France started up again, Arthur was slightly glad. Another excuse to be away from _that place_ – from the Americas and the Alfred-look-alike. Away from that child that always made him feel that godsbedamned feeling! He took out his frustrations in the war and did not realize when that child was forced into war by the person whom started it all – his moroseness, his anger, his desperation – Alfred.

Arthur was struck with horror when he heard that Alfred burned York down and he wasn't sure how to react when he heard Matthew, the child who only looked fifteen, joined the war. He again wasn't sure what to think when Matthew burned down the Whitehouse.

When Arthur returned from Europe to meet his charge after the wards, he plastered a smile on his face and praised the child for his actions in the war even though he never thought it would've come to that. Arthur ignored the way the child jumped out of the way when he tried to bring his hand down to pat his shoulder and he ignored that pang of _something_ that came. He blamed that action on the war – a war that that child shouldn't have been in anyways.

And then soon after Arthur left again because still, even after the war, the child had not changed much at all rather it seemed that he was more… broken. Well _broken_ wasn't the correct term to use as a Matthew _looked_ pretty much whole but he was really close to that. Don't get him wrong, on the surface, Matthew seemed to be normal, smiling whenever Arthur came over and trying his best to be the perfect host even though Arthur was God knows how many years older than the child. But if one were to look closer, something would be off about the child.

Like how he was careful not to brush his fingers against Arthur's when he was giving him tea. Or how he did not speak unless spoken to and somewhere along the way, he had moved his sitting room to the back of the house and Matthew no longer greeted him at the door when he visited – sound rarely travelled back there. Whenever Arthur came to visit, Matthew would always be in the sitting room, reading, as if he had nothing else better to do.

It wasn't something to be alarmed about; in all appearances Matthew was _fine_ but something always seemed to be _off_ about the child and Arthur never stuck around long enough to find out. He didn't want to stay long, just long enough so the child would not _forget_ him.

But Arthur figured something must've gone wrong when he had to repress _two_ rebellions, one in Upper Canada and the other in Lower Canada.

Out of anger and a little bit of relief as the child wasn't so _broken_ as he feared, Arthur stormed into that house after both rebellions were quelled to confront the child. Arthur saw the look of surprise as he slapped the child but quickly ignored in favour of reprimand him.

He didn't allow the child to speak back to him – '_this will not be another Alfred!' _was the only that was going through his mind until the child apologized profusely. It was different from Alfred. It was a whole lot different.

Arthur stopped as he watched the child spew apologies after apologies, that feeling came back and Arthur couldn't bring him to berate the child any longer. All anger and frustration flew out the window when he saw the child practically bow down in shame and somehow it felt _wrong_ to him. Arthur tried to "make it better" by taking on a calm tone and showing that he was mad anymore by patting his head – Arthur knew Matthew liked being patted on the head but he didn't know that it was because that was the only form of _affection_ he gives Matthew, ever.

Arthur ignored the flinch Matthew gave when his hand landed on his head and began to tell the child, softly, about the plan to unite the two Canadas into one just to say anything in the now quiet room.

He left soon after with the feeling of _something _deep in his chest.

* * *

The next time Arthur stayed for a long period of time was during the America Civil War and like that time after the America Revolution, he did not remember going to that house at all.

He woke again with Matthew handing him a glass of water, a smile on his face. Alfred had never done that and thus he did not mistake Matthew as Alfred.

Arthur never stayed too long in the house – he went outside to drink – because he _couldn't_ stay in that house without feeling that goddamned feeling but this time, he felt it towards his former charge. Odd really. Worse was when he was in the vicinity of that child, that feeling seemed to triple-fold and so he never stayed in the house for long. He could've just left the "New World" back to England to deal with his own country's matters but he couldn't, not with the troubles down south, not when he needed to learn everything that was happening right away and where better to hear news than the closest neighbour to America, Canada? So he stayed and drank himself silly.

He liked to go out to drink more and more because everytime he returned (though he _still_ have no memory of returning), he would have a very nice dream. A dream about Alfred and the times when he was younger – when he called him "Iggy" and actually _liked_ being around him, not like now. Not when Alfred is busy with his Civil war and is practically torn in two. Not when Alfred is just a few kilometers south and yet Arthur could not get to him.

Arthur liked his dreams and that nice impression of nostalgia that came with it.

So he went out to drink just to have that dream.

And then he would wake to that child, Matthew, holding out a glass of water with that same smile and that _feeling_ would always come with it. Why is he having that feeling? Why for so long?

Arthur ignored it and continued to drink, right until the America Civil War ended.

He never once thought about Matthew during all this. He never saw him cry.

* * *

When the America Civil War was over, Arthur felt jubilation. And what better to celebrate such jubilation than to have a celebratory drink? The child was left alone in the house (with that bear who always seemed to glare at him) while he went out to get that celebratory drink and when he returned, he came home to an image that was very unlike Matthew.

Matthew stared right into his eyes and did not speak until Arthur [mistakenly] finally looked into his eyes. Arthur was lost in the indescribable mix of violet-blue eyes – something he had not actually reveled in for a very, very long time – when Matthew stuttered something out in that oh so soft voice of his. It sounded something very much like "_I-I want to be my own country!"_

Arthur blinked at the words.

No that can't be. Not again, no not again, it will not happen again! The last time he heard those words, 8 years of war followed. He didn't want it to happen again!

And yet, Arthur couldn't say anything to Matthew; no shouts, no reprimand for such blasphemous thoughts, no physical discipline, just… nothing. Arthur just stood there with one word of confusion and watched as the brief appearance of so rare confidence wilt away from the child until the child broke eye contact and found something of interest on the floor.

The child started to stutter some more.

"Um… well I w-want to be my o-own country… With m-my own g-government, parliament and-and stuff…"

Arthur stared at the child for a little while longer until he finally voiced what he feared would happen if he were to refuse.

"And… if I say 'no', what would you do? Would you raise a rebellion just like Alfred? Would you fight against _**me**__?_"

Arthur expected a confident '_yes!'_ and probably some more useless banter just like what Alfred had done those many years ago and Arthur was surprised by the child's response.

Matthew looked up and shook his head as if it was a rattle. "N-no! I-if you d-don't want me t-to, then I won't! I will s-stay your c-colony… I…" he lowered his head down to look at his feet again. "I just wanted to be… _stronger,"_ he said the last word in voice _lower _than his normal voice volume (which was pretty damned low to begin with) but Arthur was able to hear it. Arthur was again surprised at that last sentence and it really hit a cord in him.

When was the last time he had heard the word '_want_' from that child? For that matter, when had the child _ever_ used the word 'want' in the time that he was under Arthur's care?

Arthur could not recall a single time, not _**once**_ in a hundred and two years.

Sure, Alfred used that word ALL the bloody time but no, not Matthew. Matthew never did and that godsbedamned feeling came back and harder before.

He did not hear as the child spluttered out more excuses, reasons, or whatever for his desire for country-dom. He was stuck in his own thoughts.

All these years, 102 years, Arthur had never given the child a _single_ thing. No random gifts like how he did for Alfred before (because Alfred always needed something to mollify him), no other signs of _some_ affection besides a pat on the head, no… Arthur shook his head before the analogy of growing flowers came to the surface.

He gave him nothing.

And yet, after all those years, Matthew was still with him, though not as long as Alfred before he declared independency (about 140 years thereabouts), but still, with him. The only thing he was asking for was just to be a country.

Surely that wasn't a _big_ thing, being a country, just as long Matthew stayed loyal to him always it was fine…

Arthur sighed, stopping Matthew in whatever half-apology-half-reasoning he was trying to get across and then Arthur finally said, with great reluctance, "Fine…"

Matthew lifted his head in disbelief when he heard that word pass Arthur's lips and there was a second, maybe two, before Matthew threw himself onto Arthur in complete _jubilation_. Arthur was again surprised a third time as the child was actually _hugging_ him. He would dare say for the first time _ever_.

"_Merci! Merci! Merci beaucoup! Je t'aime!" _Though Arthur disliked the French language, he did know these few words and he flushed at the last sentence before Matthew repeated the same sentences in English, save for the last one.

Arthur wanted to say something in return, possibly a '_You're welcome' _or _'It's nothing'_ or something of the sort but he only managed a cough before saying, "Well, you do know that you will still be under my control and I will still be your priority above all right?"

And Arthur was surprised a fourth time as the child raised his head and absolutely _beamed_ at him while accepting Arthur's one prerequisite and thanking him. Arthur was taken back at the complete _happiness_ the child display, not to mention that smile that just seemed to make those once-dreaded purple-blue eyes sparkle. It was the first time he had seen Matthew like this. So many firsts in one day.

First request, first hug, first time saying _'I love—'_

And then it hit him, what that feeling that was haunting him all these years. Arthur quickly pushed the child away from him and coughed into his hand again in fear of betraying his thoughts to the child.

Arthur quickly excused himself from the room, leaving behind an elated nation-to-be behind him and did not stop until the front door closed behind him. He let out a large sigh and brought his hands to face, slightly ignoring the loud cheers coming from behind the door.

It was _guilt_.

All those years, all those times, that godsbedamned feeling he felt was _**guilt**_! But that can't be! Nation-persons, countries, or whatever, do not harbour such feelings as guilt or the like! Nation-persons are supposed to be confident, completely sure of whatever path their country takes and whatever comes out of it, comes out it. _Guilt_ is a sign of weakness, easy to be exploited or used against the nation. There was only one rule to being a nation and that is to be the best. Guilt would make a nation-person and their country weaker and thus, they do not feel it – they _cannot_ feel it.

And yet, here he was, feeling guilt for that child – well not going to be a child much longer since he would be a country soon – inside the house.

It had first threw him off with how so much similar looking he was to Alfred and when he took the crying look-alike from that Frog's arms, it kind of _tinged_ his heart a bit. That was when it had started. Arthur had had colonies taken away from other countries before, had them crying, screaming, or whatever in rooms he gave them (sometimes having to lock them in it) and was able to walk away without feeling _guilt_ for them.

But Matthew was different, he had the same face of his (dare he say it) favourite colony and somehow Arthur couldn't turn away from him.

Arthur had half-expected for Matthew to be similar in personality as well, due to the same face and all but he was again thrown off with how _different_ they were.

Alfred was an open book and his emotions were plastered on his face and his oh-so-many demands and desires but Matthew was the opposite of him. Arthur, of so many centuries, could not read him sometimes. He did not know what Matthew wanted, what he felt, or really, now that he thought about it, _anything _about Matthew.

Guilt, guilt, and more guilt.

The reason why Arthur never liked looking into Matthew eyes is that although Matthew was not an open book, his eyes never lied and all Arthur had even seen, before he stopped looking, in them was sadness. It piled the guilt on and on.

Guilt for taking the child away from his previous _owner_.

Guilt for letting the child know that he wasn't wanted by said owner.

Guilt for leaving the child alone.

Guilt for always prioritizing Alfred over him.

Guilt from running away from the child.

Guilt for, even now, always loving Alfred more than him.

Arthur leaned back onto the front and let out another sigh, watching his breath condense and then disappear.

And now, the one thing that makes that child _happy_ is a small bit of independence from him – how could Arthur not give that to him? He wonders if it is too late to compensate for all the _wrong-doings_ he had done to Matthew…

Arthur shook his head. No, that would be admitting that he was _wrong_ and he was _never _wrong.

Arthur was stuck in his thoughts of whether or not to become the 'better brother' he had promised Matthew in the beginning for a long while before he just gave up.

Damn the guilt, he was going to go out for another drink.

As Arthur walked down the front steps, he hoped he would have that nice dream again.

Best to forget it all, he did nothing wrong. _Nothing._

And so, Arthur forgot.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry if this was hard to read or whatever because I wrote this on and off kind of thing and I didn't read over it so there might be a lot of mistakes or incoherency!

A clarification on this chapter if it is needed: Matthew did smile happily during his stay with Arthur but only when Alfred was around and Arthur rarely stayed over long enough to see it.

Yeah so, finally ARTHUR'S point of view! I wonder if you guys are like TIRED of such extras and just want me to GET ON WITH THE STORY HUH? But we all know how it's gonna end... sortof and Extras are like my way of continuing the story but not really thinking up of like "new" things (and research XD).

Anyways, again, does reading this make you HATE Arthur more? And if you look at it at some angle, you can actually blame everything on Alfred ahaha XD. And yeah, like brother like brother! They both forgot Matthew in one way or another!

Alwell, do I read somewhere it was because of America that Britain choose Canada but I don't remember the reason why and though I am not sure if Canada actually got to be a country by asking but at the very least, there was no war (like in America) for their small piece of independence.

So thank you for all your reviews/comments on the last chapter! SO INFORMATIVE ABOUT THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR XD.

And before I forget, WHICH I DID, **BlueStar123** gave me a fanart like OH SO LONG AGO, and I forgot to share it with you guys!

http:/ img710. imageshack. us/ img710/ 4072/ aphmattiethroughmyeyes. png (remove them spaces!)

It's the scene from Chapter 8 - Making him choose, where Matthew is waiting for Alfred on the street! SO BLOODY AWESOME AND CUTE! *loffs it so much*

So until next time once again!


	16. Seeing Him Again

Ahaha it's been like... 2 months since I last updated this fanfic, was busy with end of semester stuff and then plaguing the intornetz with my cruddy fanart using my good tablet. I was never good at writing stories anyways.

Anyways, as apologies I give you a (sortof) long chapter + an extra at the end.

Ah and forgive me for any mistakes or incoherency you might read below because I didn't read over it, JUST WANTED TO POST IT UP. Oh and warning for pseudo-history that may or may not be accurate - I was never one for politics and less so for history.

Oh ahaha dood, I didn't realise that "Kumajirou" could also be a "Character" in the... thing... yeah...

* * *

**Through my Eyes**

**Seeing him again**

After the papers were all signed and done with, Matthew moved from the small rural town to the bustling city to be nearer to the Parliament building and his new responsibility in being a nation-person.

Matthew looked back as we walked down the front porch and the pathway that lead away from the old house. I rested in his arms as he paused to take in the sight of the house one last time and I was certain he was remembering all the memories that that house held.

The first time we came to that house was in 1770, 103 years ago, the day of the Boston Massacre. We were taken abruptly from Alfred only to see him again 5 years and spurned moments by him after. We lived through short years, months most likely, of "good" parental care from Arthur until he taken up a good friendship with the bottle and left us altogether, only remembering to visit once in a few years it seemed like.

It was strange that we never moved even after Alfred gained his independence and stranger still that we didn't after the War of 1812 when Alfred could have came at anytime to rail at him, to convince him to join him once again or maybe to even apologize for his behaviour in 1813. Maybe that's why Matthew never moved even though he certainly could with the unlimited funds he had at his disposal. Maybe he stayed to not only wait for Arthur but also for Alfred.

But Alfred never came.

And Matthew stopped waiting.

That house only held sad memories now that I think about it except at the end which Arthur finally conceded Matthew to become his own country though not really. But that was enough for Matthew.

Matthew turned around and walked to the ride that would take us all the way to the capital where our new house lay.

We had no one to send us off since Matthew was not able to make friends with the neighbours besides the fact that he was an un-growing child or he grew slowly – in 103 years, Matthew only grew 5 years in appearance from a 12-year old to a 17-year old -, Matthew also had that fear of other humans' touch because of Alfred in 1813. Arthur was not there with us when we left.

Behind we left all the books Matthew gathered in 103 years, all the plants he cultivated, all the furniture and whatever else the house held and he left behind his sad memories, beginning new ones with nothing but his clothes and me in his arms.

We were starting over anew.

* * *

Our new house in the capital was located slightly away from the main roads and in a quiet neighbourhood. The house itself was bigger than our old one, though still not as large as the one we had shared with Alfred, complete with a room full of book shelves for the new books Matthew was planning on buying and a large backyard for his gardening. Though it was quite large for one teenager and a polar bear, Matthew decided that he would make do with all the extra room.

Soon, he would start his "new job" and venture out beyond the confines of his house but he wanted first to acquaint himself with his new home first.

Matthew walked down the halls and into each room one by one and touched the walls, stairs and counters as if committing them to memory even though they would be remembered after a few days or so. I padded alongside him until we walked through the back door to revel in the large backyard and I could see Matthew was planning on which plants or flowers and where to plant them.

Silence stretched between us but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, it was a silence only him and I could hold since we had many times of them when he read, gardened, cleaned, or cooked. It was not expected for us to talk. Soon, the silence was broken with a soft sentence from Matthew.

"I hope… I will be more useful like this and Arthur… would be proud of me…"

I hummed a genial response because I knew _that_ was expected of me. Even if Arthur wasn't proud of him, I would always be, but that wasn't what Matthew wanted to hear.

We had a few more moments of silence between us before Matthew lifted me up into his arms and went back inside to prepare himself for the oncoming future.

* * *

The first few days were… decent, so to speak. Matthew carried me around with him wherever he went and even into the Parliament building and had animal control called upon me more times than I could count. Of course that was after the adults stopped trying to direct Matthew out the building, mistaking him as a _normal_ 17-year old that had no business doing in the building in the first place and not realizing that Matthew probably out-aged them more than 10 times over.

The latter was remedied by a _special_ pass that Matthew had to wear on him on all times and sometimes that was questioned and scrutinized and the former was solved by a passive glare and possible bodily harm from both the 17-year old and mini-polar bear. Sometimes a soft smile from Matthew was enough for them to turn around and mind their own business. Soon they stopped bothering him and the small polar bear that was yes, very much alive and not a stuffed toy at all, in his arms and finally, we felt like we _belonged_ there and not out of place.

After a year of two of "settling in", as it were, Matthew, like all nations, wanted to expand but he did not, like the nations in Europe and maybe once, twice attempt of America to overtake lands by force and war. No, Matthew had enough taste of war, small as it was, and decided to acquire lands by negotiating and possibly a bit of money never hurt.

Rupert's Land, owned by the Hudson's Bay Company that was owned by the crown, came under Canada's Parliament by waving around that said money, taking a page from America's book when America bought Alaska (formerly named Russian America) from Russia in 1867, and Rupert's Land and North-Western Territory became the North-West Territories and Manitoba on July 15, 1870.

British Columbia joined Canada on July 20, 1871 with a promise to complete a railway in 10 years, and Prince Edward Island joined 2 years later on July 1st with a promise of a ferry link and then in 1880, as if we were being very good, England turned over the responsibility of the Arctic Islands to Canada on September 1. Canada stretched from coast to coast.

_**A Mari usque ad Mare.**_

_From sea to shining sea._

* * *

The role of being a nation-person, especially as "young" as Matthew, was merely ceremonial where he just sat in on all the meetings and decisions made and watched.

But what they didn't know was that Matthew was unconsciously affecting their decisions without either of them knowing. But I knew because unlike either of them, I was a bystander and could see it clearly. Not like I needed a magnifying glass to see it anyways.

For all their aging faces, greying hair, and holier-than-thou attitudes, these politicians were easily swayed by their nation person.

It was like one day, Matthew let out in that small voice of his, I doubt that he will manage to speak in normal volumes from now on, to the current Prime Minister, the only other person that he felt comfortable around, that he wanted to less reliant on England and the United States. Especially the United States.

And then the next day, the Prime Minister brought of the idea of expansion to the west coast and no less than half of the attending politicians turned to look at Matthew for his approval, who was smiling softly, before agreeing the idea wholeheartedly.

Really, how could they not see the connection?

Only a few of those old geezers actually _know_ who Matthew was, fewer still that actually talk to him but almost all of them seem to adore him.

Aside from the natural beauty that all nation persons inadvertently have, for all his worth, Matthew could not tell a lie. Or at the very least, he could not tell a lie well. How could he? Where at the beginning he had little to no interactions with humans and then later, when he was colonized, he was kept away from the general population, then under England's control practically ignored half the time and finally, with what Alfred did, Matthew isolated himself for half a century.

Matthew did not know how to deal with people. That being said, Matthew wore his emotions on his sleeve and there was nothing short of honesty on his face.

Coupled with his young face, he was like a rare gem in these company whose job is to tell lies and hide their emotions.

And what's more, Matthew had, what life likes to call, 'a way with words' where he could eloquently sit the facts out in an orderly fashion and convince almost anyone to do anything. He could, if he was of the darker mind, convince a person to do murder and make them think that it was a good idea. But no, he was Matthew. Quiet and sweet Matthew who only used that ability to get out of awkward situations, to comprehend the meetings he sat in on and at the beginning, to convince the government workers to allow him to carry me around with him. After all, almost 100 years with the books had to have _some_ effect on him.

Matthew could see more in depth and logically than anyone in the government building but he never flaunted it.

Soon the politicians knew of his talent and started to put it to use on issues they could not resolve themselves.

Like with British Columbia refused vehemently to join until Matthew spoke to them and convinced them to join under the promise of the railway and undertaking their debts. Then Matthew managed to persuade China (and Hong Kong) to send people to work on the railway. Matthew felt guilt at sending most of them into danger but… it needed to be done.

And then again for Prince Edward Island.

Of course none of it was written down in history and Matthew didn't mind if someone took the credit from him. He was doing what he thought was best for Canada and on some levels, himself. After all the dealings and such, Matthew slowly managed to lessen his fears of other humans (and their touch) but he still could not stand too long in another's touch. Not like a lot of would linger with their hands on him for good reason, and if another would try for other… perverse reasons, I would snap my jaws at them and threaten them with a growl and Matthew was none the wiser. None of them knew that I could talk and I like to keep it that way – it would've scared them anyways when they couple it with an un-aging teenager.

Matthew was starting to feel more comfortable in the government building and he didn't feel lost as he was when he was colony of England's and stuck forever in that house. But for all his nicely put words, how cleanly he laid the facts out and how logically simple that his way was obviously the correct way, there were possibly only two people in the world that his words had no effect on, Arthur and Alfred.

* * *

Arthur was a given from the get-go. Obviously still stuck on America no matter how many years or decades pass, not to mention that he still had power over Matthew no matter what.

And then there was Alfred who was a weird and… special case.

We met him again when Matthew became a country a few days after the official papers were signed and done with. Just a meeting between Canada's and America's country leaders and their nation person.

Matthew was fidgeting, stroking my fur in order to calm himself while watching the door. The Prime Minister just sat at his desk, watching Matthew pace around the small room and pretending not to be bothered at all.

But the silence was too much for either of them and the man spoke up.

"Shouldn't you calm down a bit, Matthew? It is only an informal meeting, nothing to worry about," he said in a kind, non-berating voice. Not that he would admit it himself but I knew the man really adored Matthew like he was his own son.

Matthew jumped a bit, his nerves already at the stretching point, when the Prime Minister spoke. "Ah um well… I know it's just that I… Haven't s-seen _him_ in awhile… I don't know what to do…"

The man smiled, stepped up from behind his desk and he stood beside Matthew as he could hear voices from behind the door coming nearer and nearer. "Do not worry so much, I am pretty sure he feels the same," he said, trying to soothe Matthew down but failing because we, Matthew and I, knew how Alfred was like and that "worry" was not a word in his dictionary. That and their parting was not a good one.

And now they are meeting again.

The door opened to reveal the United States' current President and right beside him was Alfred F. Jones, both were smiling when they entered.

The country leaders exchanged formalities, shook hands and then turned to introduce their nation person to the other. Matthew smiled meekly at Alfred while Alfred, after a long confused stare that I didn't understand, beamed a face-splitting grin before extending his hand to shake Matthew's hand. Matthew was hesitant for a moment before he took Alfred's hand to return the shake.

"Nice 'ta meet you!" Alfred said cheerfully, which confused both Matthew and me. Matthew only nodded his head in return. Why was he acting as if he never saw us before?

Later, the two country leaders told their respective nation person to go out to "know each other better" said the American President and "to reacquaint each other" said the Canadian Prime Minister which confused the other party. But both of them obliged and walked out to the gardens to talk while the politicians talk… politician stuff.

They both walked through the gardens in a small silence until they walked through the rose gardens that Alfred just stared openly at Matthew and Matthew was a bit unnerved by the stare.

"Um… what is it Al—uh—America?" he said, calling him by his country name instead of the human name.

A tilt of the head, "No it's nothing, it's our first time meeting but I feel I have seen you somewhere."

Now _that_ got our attention.

"F-first time?" Matthew whispered, "But what about—" And then shook his head after contemplating something. "Y-Yes, it is our f-first t-time meeting isn't it? You too are… f-familiar to me…"

"I know right? So weird!" Alfred, no America, said with a grin on his face.

And then they parted like that.

After, Matthew told me that if Alfred didn't want to remember then who was Matthew to try to remind him? You know, besides the fact that they lived 12 years together and that Matthew was still a bit traumatized from what Alfred did. Matthew thought it was better to forget, especially about what happened in 1812… I felt a bit sorry for Matthew who was forced, sort of, to forgo his past with Alfred but if that was what Matthew wanted, I won't try to stop him.

It kind of brings "starting over anew" to a whole new level.

It was soon after this that Matthew brought up that he wanted to be less dependent on the United States, as least trade wise.

* * *

We had to deal with America once again during the Klondike Gold Rush that happened in 1897, where all of a sudden the border between Alaska and newly formed Yukon Territory (on June 13, 1898) was very important. Especially the border that was alongside British Columbia was extremely important.

Canada asserted one length; US asserted another and then appeared a Border Dispute.

It all boiled down to 1903 where in room with 3 nation persons and 6 humans, 3 from the US, 1 from England and 2 from Canada. England was in there because Canada's foreign affairs were still controlled by him.

Matthew tried to put forth that the boundary he and his fellow Canadians have claimed were rightfully theirs and he put all the points and declarations out succinctly and beautifully and almost managed to convince the opposing human representations until America sat up and rejected the idea in few unsophisticated words and like clockwork, Arthur agreed with him.

Go figure.

Matthew tried and tried again but with one word or, if we were lucky, two words from America, Arthur would jump in and dismiss them all. And so in the end, Matthew just gave up and he had sympathies from all the present human representations.

With biting and some bordering on snarky words that passed over America and England like barely noticeable breeze, Matthew excused himself from the room, seeing that everything he tried to do was futile, and once the door was closed behind him, he cursed up a storm in that small voice of his. He was saying stuff like, "Of all the nerve! All America had to do was say ONE word and England was at his beck and call! As if _**I**_ didn't matter at all! Okay, I may not have been his colony as long as America but _**I**_ am the one respecting HIS Queen as my own!" and so on, cursing both America and England.

Matthew could have possibly gone on forever if I hadn't stopped him, asking for food or what not. Matthew blinked down on me as if he had forgotten about me and then his face blushed as he felt apologetic for saying 'mean' things about America and England. He sighed, shifted me in his arms, before leaving the building to find some possibly maple-flavoured treats. They have always helped when he was a little bit depressed.

When October 20, 1903 rolled around and the human representations had to sign some paper that the Alaska Border Dispute was over and that America had practically won it because the British represent person sided on the American side, of course by order of Arthur no less, the Canadian represented people had refused to sign it. Matthew was proud of them for it, really he was, but they had to sign it because short of going to war, which was something Matthew will never condone, there was nothing else they could do.

So they signed it with Matthew words in their hearts.

Of course there was still some bitterness towards England (and America) but that soon died down.

Surprisingly, after the dispute America, Alfred that is, came around with his quirky smile and in his own crude way apologize with a "Haha, no hard feelings ammirite?"

I could see that Matthew wanted to punch his face in when his hands clenched around my fur but he knew he couldn't because 1) he would lose and be in a world of pain (again) if America decides to retaliate and 2) fighting wasn't really Matthew's kind of thing.

So he just smiled a strained smile and said "It's fine, it's over and done with."

And then Matthew turned to be out of the vicinity of Alfred but Alfred surprised us again when he moved to grab the arm of Matthew and pulled him back – to which Matthew immediately froze up, probably remembering the _last_ time Alfred been so… forceful. But Alfred didn't notice and kept tugging until Matthew turned to look at him, which he did with unease in his eyes.

"Hey… uhh do you want to like just… do something together?" Alfred said.

Matthew lifted an eyebrow, "Together?" Alfred nodded. "You mean me and you?" Alfred nodded again. "Um, sure I guess?" Though Matthew was uncertain with what Alfred _really _wanted.

Alfred beamed, "Ahaha! Awesome! I know this place that serves _REALLY _good food and I wanted to show it to you!" And then he proceeded to drag Matthew (and myself who was in his arms, like usual) out of the building.

"Ah, um, I still have some work to do!" Matthew exclaimed as the building disappeared around the corner, "and don't you as well? How did you manage to go up to Canada without your…"

"Don't worry about it! Those guys can deal a few days without me and yours could do the same! You should learn how to relax!"

"I do know how…" muttered Matthew as he relaxed and let America drag him around.

That was how Alfred and Matthew became friends again, though this time, without any mention of their past. They mostly talked about anything and everything, though they strayed when the topic about politics and 'secrets' about their government came up. Soon they called each other by their human names, a small indicator that they have become close friends – though they did not call each other by their old pet names, Al or Mattie, just Alfred and Matthew—and soon after, Matthew felt comfortable enough around Alfred to not carry me around in his arms as much.

I didn't generally talk around others but seeing how Matthew seemed to almost lose all of his fear of human touch – I mean being around the person who _caused _it in the first and deciding that there will be almost slim to none chance of _it_ happening again was bound to cause some change in him – I figured it was fine to talk around Alfred.

The chance came up when Matthew asked a question of me, something like "Hum Kumajirou, I wonder what we should do today?" which was more rhetorical than anything since Alfred was the one who always seems to decide what to do, even though we were in Canada.

"Who?" I said more out of habit than anything. I had started asking the question when he first became a country; I _knew_ who Matthew was but _what_ Matthew was another story. Neither a full country nor a colony either, Matthew existence was something in between. Even name-wise through history were a bit fuzzy: New France, Acadia, Quebec, British Province of Quebec, Lower and Upper Canada, United Province of Canada, and now the Dominion of Canada. Every time I asked that question, Matthew would look at me with a cheerful smile and chirp "I'm Canada!" as if he was making sure that he_ was _Canada. And of sooner or later, it had become a habit; just like him replying was one for him too.

"I'm Canada!" he said with a smile and did not notice as Alfred's eyes widened and he openly gaped at me.

"He… talks?"

"Hum?" Matthew turned to Alfred. "Yeah of course he talks, didn't you know?"

"Um, no. He didn't talk before."

Matthew paused at that. 'Before'? Like before right now or before they met again? Did that mean he is 'remembering' their past together?

"Before when?" Matthew asked carefully.

"Before now!" Well that answers our question. "He never spoke before! How long was he able to speak?"

"Well… I am not sure, I think it was during 1813…" Matthew said and testing the waters, seeing if that date had any 'importance' to Alfred.

"1813?" Alfred said and then "Wow that was more than 50 years ago! How come he didn't talk before now?"

Matthew sighed, seeing that the War of 1812 did not bother Alfred, at all. "I don't know— why didn't you Kumakero?"

I did a human-like shrug, "Didn't want to." I never say anything more than I needed to and I wasn't going to start now.

"Huh okay, whatever! Let's go play a game!" And with that, our day was set.

Of course, sooner or later, Alfred had to go back to his country and occasionally he would come over to visit and on rare occasions, Matthew would visit America but that was rare and in between since Canada still had a few issues to deal with unlike America who was a country for almost 100 years already.

Somewhere in between, Saskatchewan and Alberta managed to form on September 1, 1905 and Matthew and Alfred became closer than ever, though they still did not call each other by their old pet names. Shortly, Matthew began to ask for advice from Alfred, and even though Alfred was not one of the smarter bunches, I could see that Alfred loved the attention he got from his northern neighbour and he tried to give the _best_ answer to the _best_ of his ability, as limited as it were.

All well, Matthew took the advices and tried to make do and sometimes, it would turn out swell. Alfred kind of became Matthew's role model and he changed some of the rules to match Alfred's; like driving on the right side of the road and calling _football_ as it was called in England to _soccer_. Just small things really.

And while they, Alfred and Matthew, were 'bonding' on the North American continent, they did not realize, or didn't want to realize, the problems rising and occurring overseas.

Suddenly, England declared war, and still being under control of him, Canada was forced to fight a war that wasn't his, for a second time but this time, not on his soil. America did not join.

* * *

**Through my Eyes – Extra**

**Alfred – That missing piece**

Not like the man would tell him, but Alfred could tell that the United States President was slightly annoyed with him.

"Why didn't you tell me that Canada had a _person_ like_ you_?" the man said.

Alfred huffed a bit as they walked through the corridors of Canada's Parliament Building in Ottawa.

"Well I didn't _know_ they had one!" Alfred snapped. It was 1867, 2 years after end of Civil War and the assassination of Abraham Lincoln and Alfred was still bitter that such a brilliant man died to a shot at the back of the head. BUT putting that aside, Alfred was confused himself in _how in the world did he not know that Canada had a personified nation_?

Alfred had always assumed that there were none since that fuzzy browed man, Arthur, never mentioned or talked about one in those rare moments that Arthur didn't hold the American Independence against him and talked about trade like _normal_ nation people who cared for the welfare of their country rather than their… personal feelings. And since there _wasn't_ a personified colony, nation or whatever, Alfred had always thought that sooner or later, Canada, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and all those other small British colonies in North America would become his.

But surprise, surprise, there _was _one and now the manifest destiny that one of his American fellows brought up seems a bit iffy. Alfred sighed and hoped the nation person for Canada wasn't a prick like England, which would suck a whole lot if he (maybe she?) was a lot like Arthur because being neighbors means that America had to deal with Canada more times often than not.

The President glanced over when Alfred sighed and promptly apologized, "I'm sorry but it would be nice to know before the Prime Minister of Canada invites us over to introduce each other's… special 'person'."

"It would've been nice to know for me too" Alfred muttered under his breath and then they were standing in front of a door that leads into the Prime Minister's office.

They were motioned to go in, so the President opened the door to reveal a balding man and a young 17 year-oldish blonde who held a stuffed polar bear. As if a personified nation holding a stuffed bear was totally normal.

At the sight of the young blonde, all of sudden, a hole in Alfred's life that he didn't realize was there felt like it was filled and he didn't understand what that _feeling _was or meant. He just stared at the boy as their leaders introduced each other and then introduced them, noting small things, like how they almost looked the same except the other nation person had softer features than himself, he (that was a he right?) had slightly lighter, longer, and wavier hair than his own, he was a bit shorter than Alfred by a few inches or so (but was too tall to be a girl, so he must be a boy), his eyes were of a different shade from his own, a bit purplely (if that's word) than his own, and Holy Hell, that wasn't a stuffed polar bear at all! And it looked like it was glaring at him, now why would it do that? Alfred was oh so very likeable!

It took a moment to realize that after the boy (Matthew was his name right?) gave a shy smile that they were waiting for _his_ small self introduction – well on the bright side, at least the boy did not seem to be much like Arthur at all. Alfred smiled brightly and stuck out his hand to shake and held it out until Matthew took it into his own. Somehow, holding Matthew's hand felt right.

After introductions were done with, the country leaders told the both of them to go outside to "know each other better"/" to reacquaint each other" which confused everyone all round though himself and Matthew plus the small polar bear went out anyways and somewhere along the way their legs brought them to the gardens near the building and they walked in silence.

It wasn't until they walked in the rose gardens and Alfred saw Canada with red rose bushes behind him that Alfred froze in his spot and his breath hitched. It was a scene that looked _so familiar_ and yet he couldn't place it. Like a memory that was there but just out of reach and his mind cannot supply the memory at all. It was so, so familiar!

Canada, possibly sensing the inner turmoil Alfred was having, spoke up, "Um… what is it Al—uh—America?"

That aborted try at his human struck something within him and yet, no memory came to the surface. Alfred needed to voice his concern even if to alleviate some of it, or maybe, Canada would know what or understand.

"No it's nothing, it's our first time meeting but I feel I have seen you somewhere."

Was that shock on Canada's (and the polar bear's) face?

"F-first time?" Canada whispered, "But what about—" And for a second Alfred thought Canada knew something he didn't but then he said, "Y-Yes, it is our f-first t-time meeting isn't it? You too are… f-familiar to me…"

"I know right?" America said, slightly disappointed that Canada didn't know either but mollified that he too felt it, "So weird!"

And with that, they were called back for something or other politic thing that Alfred never really paid attention to.

* * *

The next time they met was during the Alaskan Border Dispute in which was totally American soil and not Canadians.

Alfred sat there while the young man stood up and presented his case. He sat there while he listened to that barely audible voice while Matthew held onto the polar bear as if it was his lifeline. Alfred was almost inclined to agree with the boy if not it was _American_ soil they were debating on and so Alfred had to what he had to do, disagree with the soft—yet very well—spoken boy for all his worth.

And to his astonishment, old brows sided with him, Alfred! And not his own colony/country/whatever the heck Canada was to England! Alfred had a small flare of guilt rise up at that notion of England siding with him but again, no memory will bring itself up to explain _why_ he would feel guilty for that. But it was there, like an old, old memory hidden under many layers of earth that refused to resurface.

But America needed all the help he could get to win this dispute, seeing how the humans in the room were almost swayed by Canada's words, even it _was _old brows' help.

In the end, Canada politely exited the room after excusing himself and Alfred could see that Canada's people were looking a bit worried for him, which was weird because Alfred's own politicians couldn't care less for Alfred's well-being – well, to the extent that Canada's people were to him. There was some soft murmuring after the door closed but that was hardly perceptible and now that Canada was gone, Alfred had the whole room to explain _why_ the land should mostly be America's!

To be honest, it wasn't really needed as the meeting ended with 3 Americans, 1 British on the American side of the debate and 2 Canadians on the opposing side.

When the day of the signing of the official papers came, the two Canadians refused to sign it and Alfred almost went to grab both their hands and force them to sign it but come entered Canada who took the two of them to the side and spoke to them softly. Alfred couldn't hear the words but could see as the two Canadians try to defend their point only to have their faces fall into reluctant acceptance by some more soft words from the boy. It was really weird to see middle-aged men or older being consoled by a seventeen year-old boy.

The two Canadians returned to the papers and signed it with a small twitch in their mouths. But it was all done and done with; the dispute was resolved.

Alfred looked up to smile at Canada but all he saw was the backside of him as he stalked out of the room and the sight didn't sit well with Alfred but again, Alfred didn't understand _why_ such a sight should, he won the dispute after all!

Unable to stand the sight of the Canadian's retreating back any longer, Alfred ran out after him and when he caught up with him, Alfred said the only thing that came to mind.

"Haha, no hard feelings ammirite?"

And to Alfred's surprise, Canada, no wait _Matthew_, smiled at him! Maybe Matthew didn't hate him for it after all. "It's fine, it's over and done with."

Matthew turned around to walk away but Alfred grabbed his arm, ignoring the feral glare cast his way from the polar bear in Matthew's arms, before Matthew could get 2 paces away from him. _Enough with the back already!_ He thought.

"Hey… uhh do you want to like just… do something together?" Alfred said the next thing that came to mind. Really, maybe he should plan ahead before speaking his mind… Naw, Alfred was fine the way he was, no trouble has arisen from it yet.

Matthew lifted an eyebrow as if he was uncertain of what Alfred just said (he did form a coherent sentence didn't he?), "Together?" Alfred nodded, certain the last thing Alfred wanted to see was the retreating back of Matthew's once again.

"You mean me and you?" Alfred nodded again. "Um, sure I guess?" And then suddenly Alfred's spirits soared with that sort of, not really but really acceptance of _not_ showing Alfred his back again.

Alfred didn't understand why that since meeting this _Matthew_, that Alfred didn't want Matthew to hate him (much) and somehow it just _felt right_ being with Matthew. Like Matthew was a missing piece in his life that Alfred never realized that was missing in the first place. Somehow, being with Matthew fulfills his life that Alfred had never felt so fulfilled since, since, Alfred couldn't even remember when!

But he didn't care anymore. Screw not knowing why Matthew was having this effect on him, screw not knowing why he never knew of this Matthew before 1867.

Now that Matthew was here, Alfred was not going to let him go anywhere without his knowing so! Now that this _missing piece_ was found, Alfred would loathe seeing it disappear any time soon.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

Ahaha inadvertingly made a sortof obsessive!America (again) near the end but hey, THEY MEET AGAIN RIGHT? Extra together with the chapter just because they are both short.

Kindof supposed to be a "turnover" chapter where GONE WITH THE SADNESS and IN WITH THE STORY... ish.. or whatever. You know, less sad and having you clutching at your heart for PAIN FOR CANADA.

The politicians or whatever to show that EVEN IF THE WORLD FORGETS YOU, WE CANADIANS WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU MATTHEW!

The "cursing up a storm" after the Alaskan dispute is a precursor to the 3 hour rant? XD.

Oh and if anyone forgot, Alfred forgot everything that had to do with Matthew in chapter 10 extra 2 (under chapter number 13 - That which was Forgotten) so which is why Alfred did not know that Canada had a personified nation or what not. But even if memories were forgotten, his _feelings_ for Matthew not Canada were still there and so enter the extra!

**BlueStar123** - Lots of people likes your fanart~~! And they all wanted to say HOW AWESOME YOU ARE FOR IT!

And that reminds me, if anyone is curious for a (better, coloured) version of Human Kumajirou (mine version):

http:/ i286. photobucket. com/albums/ll86/Saloe23/Pictures/mattkuma. jpg (erase them spaces!)

**On a totally unrelated topic:**

Anyways, until next chapter, which is by the way, WORLD WAR EFFING ONE (or the Great War at the time) which I prolly need to do SOME AMOUNTS OF RESEARCH.


End file.
